Protector
by An Cathal Toirmisce
Summary: When Princess Lucy winds up in the Monsean court, she finds herself the newest interest of King Leck. Edmund is the boy that, while he could never be her savior, might be able to be her protector. If only he knew how to be. Extremely AU! Edmund/Lucy
1. Prologue

**A/N: So, this is my first crossover! First things first, it is most definitely an AU. The main pairing is going to be Edmund/Lucy, because they fit together so nicely, and they are **_**not**_** siblings in this. Most of the characters will be from the Narnia stories. Oh, and I am sorry, but unless I change the ideas for this story majorly, Katsa and Po will not appear. Katsa probably will be mentioned, and maybe be included in a flashback or something, but she won't be in it mostly. Why, you ask? The plot for this fanfiction really could only include Katsa and Po in the very end, and I don't think that I'd have enough time with them in it to do Ms. Cashore's wonderful protagonists justice. I'd never be able to forgive myself if I butchered and/or slighted their characters. Oh, and things might be a tinge confusing at first, but it will be cleared up, so please just sit tight. All righty, now enough of my rambling. On to the actual story.**

Lady Helena stood behind the screen, pushing the stiff corset downwards off her smothered chest. Her ribs ached and felt as though they were going to break, and her lungs were heavy and heaving. The ridiculous material pushed her bosom upward and made her feel exposed and loose.

It seemed as though the harder she fought against the blasted thing, the tighter the corset smothered her. Eventually, Helena threw her hands up, giving up, and collapsed with a heavy sigh. It was meant to be a sigh but really it came out as a strangled yelp. She tossed her braid from one shoulder to the other, cursing the Telmarine merchant for telling her that all of the Narnian courtiers wore corsets when she passed on her way east. She had yet to see a single lady or lord with the undergarment restricting their breath. Then again, she saw, possibly only one eighth of the courtiers were human, but it should not matter, she told herself. Alas, it was difficult to figure out, and get used to all the differences in the customs.

Narnians had beasts, and then they had Talking Beasts, which were to be treated as humans, they had fauns, dryads, and all these beautifully intriguing people, but there were no Gracelings. It was stunning to Helena to not see a single Graced person traipsing through the hallways. That, and no one wore rings or hoops in their ears, Helena had no way to tell how large the typical Narnian family was. She shifted one of the six on her hand; a larger one, and she could tell from the mere feel that it was the one for her late father, how much she missed him.

In her seat, Helena heard the oak door of her chamber open and close abruptly, and she froze. Grabbing a poker from the fireplace behind the screen, she slowly crept out from behind it.

"Who are you?" she asked, making her voice forceful, holding the poker out defensively, and making it level with the intruder's nose. He was a tall, pale, young man with light brown hair and a smart chin with a little beard. If she weren't so afraid for her own safety, being alone in a chamber with a strange man, she would have noticed how handsome he was.

"By the Lion," the young man's voice said, incredulously. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"No," Helena said, scarcely relaxing the poker. "What are you doing in my chambers?"

"Your chambers?" The man repeated. "Oh, I didn't know anyone was using this chamber. My apologies; I didn't know that you were in here; would you put the poker down?"

Slowly, Helena lowered it, and the man smiled brightly. "There we go," he said. "My name is Frank."

Helena's eyes grew. "Frank? The crowned prince of Narnia? Your highness, I am truly humbled by your presence," she dipped down into a deep curtsey, muttering sarcastically in her head that if he had been present at mealtimes or functions instead of traipsing who knew where, this misunderstanding never could have happened.

Prince Frank looked embarrassed, and yet sent her a crooked grin. "I can see that by your modest garments."

Turning red, Helena simply stammered. How could she respond to that? She merely grabbed a silken dressing gown and fastened the sash around her waist.

The prince shook his head, and muttered, "You needn't be so formal with me, Lady…"

"Helena," she said, giving the high look that her parents told her to give, and yet wanting to smile demurely at him.

Prince Frank got a quizzical look in his eyes, "Frank and Helen," he said, and he reached out and stroked Helena's cheek. "The first king and queen of Narnia; and the greatest love."

Helena straightened rigidly. "I have to tell you, your highness, the very last thing I am is blatant."

"How convenient; the very last thing I am, is subtle."

"It appears as though in disagreement, we're perfectly matched," Helena murmured, finding his dark blue eyes alluring, and wondering what precisely was happening to her.

"And I think," Frank said, "Lady Helena, that, disagreement or not, we're matched."

Helena blinked. "I am sorry, your Highness, I'm simply unused to people being so forward with me."

In a good-natured way, Frank said, "And I am unused to being so forward with people. There is something in the air tonight, I believe."

Under her breath, Helena muttered, "Perhaps it's too much ale."

Frank let out a loud laugh. "Perhaps so, although I have not drunk anything all night. I swear on the Lion Aslan. I say, Lady Helena, where is it that you are from? I don't think I have heard your accent before, nor seen someone wearing so many rings before in my life." When Helena told him, he brightened and said, "Lienid? Is that not the land to the absolute west? Is it true, that in the region, which you call the Seven Kingdoms, there are people who are born with a special ability? Almost like magic, I hear."

Helena scrunched her face. "If you're talking of Gracelings, which I think you are, the answer if yes. There is nothing magic about it, however. Some children do wake up to find their eyes two different colors, that is true, but it is not magic. The Graced simply have a particular skill, which exceeds anything any normal human is capable of. For example, they can have extremely good hearing, or run too fast to see, some can see the future, and others can eat rocks or something like that. In most of the Kingdoms, I'm afraid that Gracelings are little more than tools of the kings."

"That is terrible," Frank commented. "Although, it still seems like some sort of magic to me."

Helena could not help but laugh at that. "Say you, the crowned prince of a country where the beasts talk, and dryads and Naiads are members of the royal court. A satyr served my breakfast this morning."

"But that's completely usual," Frank said. "You suppose there is something magical about it all? Yes, Narnia was built on the Deep Magic, but that is completely different."

"You find talking Beasts and dryads, and fauns, and centaurs completely usual, and I find Gracelings usual." Helena said, matter-of-factly, no matter how much she was enjoying the conversation, although unable to tell anyone why.

"It appears, Lady Helena," Frank said, "that we are at an impasse."

"I suppose we are."

Frank sighed. " I would like to see you again, perhaps in a more public setting, and I'd like to see what you look like in a gown."

Helena blushed, but found that she truly had forgotten that she had been halfway naked throughout the whole of the conversation.

In a month, Prince Frank and Lady Helena were man and wife. The two were madly in love, and the Narnians were just as in love with their new Princess Helena. She felt as though she belonged in Narnia, and very nearly forgot of all the conflict of the Seven Kingdoms, with closer to home problems with Narnia, Archenland, Ettinsmoor, Telmar, and Calormen on her mind more often.

"My love," Frank said to Helena once, after they were married for two months. "What would you say to us taking a holiday to your home? I haven't been there, and I would love to meet more of your family than simply your mother and father."

Helena froze. "Well, Frank," she spluttered. "I don't think a trip as long as that will be quite all right for me."

"Why is that?" Frank lowered his eyebrow, concerned for his beloved wife. Then he got to thinking, Helena had been complaining of stomachaches, seemed moody, and she had ordered a completely new wardrobe several sizes too large around the waist. "Helena, are you pregnant?"

The princess straightened. "You don't have to be so barefaced about it."

Frank jumped up from the velvet chair in which he had been sitting, and gave out a great jolly laugh, "Helena! Is it true?"

Helena smiled at her husband's tender touch to her belly. "Yes, in March. Do you want a son or a daughter?"

"Either one would be simply wonderful! If a son, I would have someone to teach fencing, and to compete in jousts, and to be the newest prince; and if a daughter, a sweet, sweet princess; someone to compete in archery, and be a darling little girl, either way would be wonderful!"

Nine months passed, although not without repercussions. The old king of Narnia, Frank's father, passed away, and therefore, Frank and Helena became king and queen, far greater a responsibility. All of the Narnian issues they now had to deal with on their own, however, made the time pass far more quickly, and before either the king or queen knew it, they had a daughter.

Helena cradled the baby, smaller than anything she had ever seen in her life. "Here she is, Frank," she cooed. "The light of our lives."

Frank sat next to his wife on their mattress. "That's a perfect name for her," he said.

"I am not naming my daughter Light," Helena said dryly, some of the medication from labor making her rather moody. "That's ridiculous."

"Well, what about Lucia, then? It means light." Frank suggested hopefully.

Thinking it over, Helena looked down at the slumbering baby in her arms. "What about Lucy, in that case, then?"

"Lucy is perfect," Frank decided, before placing a soft kiss on his wife's beautiful lips.

Lucy was a sweet baby, who gurgled and cooed more than she cried, as long as she was well. Both Frank and Helena believed that the cause of her name was rather apt, as the babe was, in fact, the light of both of their lives, no matter how cliché that sounded. Lucy made the responsibilities and the troubles of being king and queen seem to melt away. For this reason, Helena watched her daughter open her eyes every morning, and watched the azure dance around the room with more relief than anyone else could muster. However, Lucy was not always an easy baby to raise. The young princess fell ill frequently, had an unbelievably hard time breastfeeding, and would be feverish at least twice every month. Her parents simply assumed that she would become well again once she got older, and so it seemed.

Once she learned how to walk, Lucy was usually toddling from one end of Cair Paravel to the other, her natural curiosity getting the better of her, and Helena only found a way to get her to sit still was to sit her young child on her knees, and tell her about the rings she wore. Once Lucy was able to speak back, she would relay to her mother about the rings.

"Do you know why I wear these rings?" Helena asked once, showing her hands to her little daughter.

Lucy nodded at her mother, "Your rings stand for things." She would lift her mother's hand, and point to each of the rings, "This one shows that you were a lady in court, before you came to Narnia. This one is for your mother, and this one is for your father. And these two are for your brothers, and this one is for your sister. This big one beside you wedding band is for Father."

Helena held up her little finger, revealing a ring different from all the others, a thin, delicately made ring of bright silver, and a little twinkling diamond in the center. "What of this one, Lucy?"

The young girl's eyes twinkled like the diamond in the ring. "That one is for me!"

The queen smiled and embraced her young daughter in her arms. "Yes, that one is for you."

XXXXXXXX

The waves of the Eastern Sea were high. They crashed over Lucy as she jumped into the whitecaps, laughing the entire time. The momentum of the waves knocked her backward, but she never hit the smooth rock floor in which her parents allowed her to swim. It was a large rock, eroded away over time to be a smooth floor, perhaps a meter deep when there were no waves. She preferred it when the waves ran high above her head, and she could see the insides of the water. The summery sun warmed it, and it was clear as crystal, she could see colorful fish swarm about her feet. She splashed into the waves, taking in large mouthfuls of saltwater, and spluttering it out with a distinctive hacking noise.

She was fourteen years old, and she had only just been allowed to swim in the sea without a chaperone in the water with her. Because she understood why her parents took all of the precautions that they did, Lucy would not complain about being kept as close as she was. This did not mean that she did not long for the freedom she lacked. She wanted to have the same freedom she felt in the water, comfortable, and without anyone telling her to be careful, or that she was going to hurt herself.

It was just then when she noticed her tutor, Master Tumnus, waving her towards the shore. Reluctantly, she swam away from her fun, the waves helping her to the sandy beach.

Once she was there, Master Tumnus ran rapidly towards the young Narnian princess on his cloven hooves. He threw a woolen blanket over the sopping girl the second she reached land. "Are you well? No cuts or bruises? The water wasn't too cold? Are you absolutely positive?"

Lucy nodded to every question the faun asked of her, and eventually said, "Yes, of course. You shouldn't worry about me nearly as much as you do, you know. I'm not as fragile as everyone wants to think."

"So you say," Master Tumnus smiled in a solemn, but friendly, way. "But whenever I stop, you cut your foot on a stone, and you're in bed for weeks, sicker than anything I have ever seen."

"I don't mean to, you know," Lucy mumbled. "If I had the choice…"

"I know."

The difference between weak and strong, while it may be well defined in some people, was hidden and hard to figure out for Lucy. She was certainly strong of mind, strong in her faith for the great Lion, Aslan, she was strong in her opinions. However, the physical aspect of strength made her weak.

When Lucy was, perhaps, eight years old, she stepped on a sharp rock and began to bleed. The curious, and partly devastating, fact of the matter, however, was that no matter how the little girl tried to cover her cut with bandages and no matter how much pressure she put on the wound, it would not stop bleeding. In fact, a half-hour after she was cut, Helena walked in on her daughter, slouching in her chair, pale as snow, aside from her handkerchief and foot, which were dyed red from the blood still pouring from her heel. She looked halfway asleep, and yet, too miserable to shut her eyes.

"Lucy?" Helena called in distress, "Are you still bleeding?"

The princess did not respond. Helena called for nursemaids to carry Lucy into her chambers and bathe the wound until the physician came to see what, precisely was wrong with Lucy. Something certainly was.

Frank held his wife as they watched the physician, an old faun with bristly hair, attempt to patch Lucy's foot, putting strange liquids on it, and covering it with layer after layer of bandages. After this, Frank fretfully watched as the physician examined his daughter's blood. Eventually, the faun stood up.

"You Majesties," he said, bowing his head low. "This is extremely rare, extremely rare indeed."

"You can fix it, can't you?" Helena asked, biting her lip.

Sadly, the physician shook his head. "It is not that sort of illness that Princess Lucy has. She will have it all of her life, unless some miracle happens. What your daughter has, you Majesties, is some sort of blood disorder. It is very similar to a disease called hemophilia—which is where the blood is too thin to clot, and therefore any minor cut or bruise can be fatal. However, I do not think that she has true hemophilia. It is very, very rare in girls, as both parents must have the disease in their blood, and I seem to remember the princess being a tinge clumsy and having fallen around before, she has not yet had such an incident. It seems to me that, perhaps, she only has a secondary sort of blood disorder, where she merely has bleeding episodes. Perhaps the thinness of her blood varies, and even then, it is not so thin as to kill her with a simple bruise. I know very little about this, as it is strange, even in males. My only suggestion would be to keep her on a specific diet, to help with her blood, and to discourage reckless behavior such as tree climbing, jumping horses, diving into water, and the like."

After that day, the princess was kept under supervision at all times. Sometimes by her nurse, but when she got older, she was supervised by Tumnus most often, as he was not only her tutor, but also her friend. She disliked the constant worry over her, in fact, she rather detested it, but there was never a way out of it. If she could have a chance to get away from the worry, if only for a little while, she would without a second thought.

**A/N: Okay, first shot at a crossover. How'd I do? Any tips on how to make it a bit more…seamless would be greatly appreciated. Oh…and it's my birthday today, and I know I sound like I'm review whoring, but an honest and helpful review would be lovely, particularly today. **


	2. Persuasion

"Are you feeling all right?" King Frank asked his daughter over the breakfast table one morning.

Lucy sighed. This seemed to be the only question anyone asked her. No one ever seemed interested in what she was busying herself with, or what she was thinking about, or anything. She knew precisely why, but sometimes she still had to clench her teeth and answer without speaking, to stop herself from becoming cross. Even Tumnus would ask this, every day, it was the first thing anyone asked her. When her eyes first opened each day, the maid asked, and therefore, it was the first thing she heard every morning. By breakfast, the count rose to fifty, and it was extremely difficult not to shout at the next one who asked. They were only concerned, which was why she attempted to keep her temper, but it was a rather pointless question. Whenever she was ill or wounded, she would not leave her bed in the first place.

"Yes, I'm fine," she said, spooning herself a plate of her usual breakfast, cooked beets and assorted vegetables.

"Good, good." Frank said, and held out his cup for the dryad serving-maid to fill with tea once more. In an optimistic attempt for conversation, Lucy said in between spoonfuls of the vegetables, "I had such a queer dream last night. In my dream, I went through my wardrobe and somehow I wound up in this large room, shaped like an oval. It was decorated like most of the rooms here, but almost everything was made out of gold. Even the sheets on the bed were made of gold silk. Then I noticed that there was only one window, so I went towards it, and then I realized something. I was in this high tower, just like in the fairy stories. Then I realized that my hair was extremely long, too. It was just like that fairytale."

"That isn't terribly queer," Frank said. 'It seems to me as though most of your dreams are about fairytales."

"Well, I haven't gotten to that part yet." Lucy said. "You see, in the dream, this boy came down, and he asked me to let down my hair and let him up. I told him that I couldn't, because I would get hurt." She allowed her voice to fade, in seeing that her father was not very much interested in his daughter's dream. But, such a queer thing it was.

She remembered, once she told the boy from her dream that she could not let her hair down, because she would get hurt, he replied, "Is that it then? You're going to leave the door shut your whole life, just because you're afraid you may get hurt?"

Lucy shrugged her shoulders, and absentmindedly gathered up her braid. "There is no door."

The boy did not respond for a moment, and then clarified. "That was a figure of speech, Lucy."

"Oh," she said. "Sorry."

"That's all right," the boy said, "it's hard to tell in dreams, sometimes."

It seemed entirely normal to her, then, and she asked him, "Why did you want to come up here, anyhow? There isn't much to do."

The answer came simply. "You know why. You need a friend who will not waste their breath hovering over you. You're too careful already. You'll waste away at this rate. You need freedom, not the mere wisps of it that you get."

"You aren't being very fair." Lucy said, feeling a need to stand up for her parents, even in the dream. "They put me up here because they love me. They want me to survive."

"You're survIvyng, but you aren't lIvyng. Someone needs to make a rebel out of you."

Lucy bit her lip, and proceeded to lift her long braid and haul it out of the window. However, the very instant the bottom of the braid touched the grass below, Lucy found herself awake in her warm bed.

Bringing herself away from the memory of her dream, Lucy looked away from her breakfast to see her mother step into the dining room. "Good morning," she called, and to Lucy she asked, "Are you feeling all right?"

Lucy nodded. "Yes, Mum," she said, washing down the taste of Brussels sprouts with a warm tea.

"Well, I have exciting news," Helena said. "My sister, for some reason unknown to me, is on her way to Galma at the end of the week, and since she is passing by, I was thinking that I ought to invite her to spend a few days in Cair Paravel. I haven't seen, or heard of her, in fourteen years."

Frank nodded. "That would be lovely for you, wouldn't it, Helena? What on earth is the reason for your hesitating to invite her?"

"The same reason as always." Helena said, her eyes flicking to her daughter. "If I were to be preoccupied, I wouldn't want her, or any guests of mine to feel slighted."

Lucy straightened at the news. She had never met her aunt before. In fact, the extent of her relatives who she knew and spoke with was her parents. She wondered what her aunt would be like, would Ivy be at all like her mother, or would the siblings be opposites, as she had heard they could be. She spent a rather large time of her lessons that day building up a picture of her aunt, and wondering exactly what was going to happen when she finally met one of her relatives.

A week later, Lucy stood to the right of her mother as the Lienid carriage approached. It was far different from anything she had seen before. From the ornamentation and angles on the little carriage, it vaguely reminded her of the Telmarine style, but at a closer look, the designs were obviously different, the likes of which she had never seen before.

When Ivy stepped out of the carriage, Lucy had to set her jaw to keep herself from gaping. Aunt Ivy had a look different to anything she had seen before, a straight nose, hair darker than even what is seen on Calormenes, a large number of rings on her hands, and hoops in her ears. Ivy looked like Helena in certain aspects, but far more colorful, what with her darker hair and bright dress. However, Ivy's eyes made her extraordinary. One was a deep violet and the other a bright, nearly turquoise color.

As soon as her aunt came into view, Frank leaned over to his wife. "Helena," he whispered. "You never told me that your sister was Graced."

"You never asked."

Lucy listened to this exchange, secretly smiling at her mother's cheek. Perhaps, she thought a moment later, it was not cheek at all. Perhaps having a Graced sibling was something that Lienid people only spoke about once they were asked. Perhaps Helena never thought of her sister as anything out of the ordinary, and therefore thought it was not necessary to mention to this particular detail. Lucy knew very vaguely, what Gracelings were. She knew that they were uncommon in her mother's region, and that they had two colored eyes. She had never seen a Grace being used, so she merely had the theory of someone with an ability passed human capability in her head, and was unsure of the actual extent of it.

"This won't be a problem, will it, Frank?" Helena asked. "In Lienid, the Graced are honored and free. You aren't going to make Narnia like the other six Kingdoms, are you?"

Lucy did not understand, but was inwardly happy when Frank said that it was not going to be a problem, and the entire royal family set out to greet Lady Ivy of Lienid.

Ivy was Graced with caring for children, oddly enough. She could make any young child feel at home with her, make baby's cease crying in seconds, not because they were no longer hungry or tired, but because they felt comforted beside her. She had twelve children, all of them raised, to prove this. It was needless to say, in this case, that Lucy liked her aunt immediately.

King Frank was absent from teatime that day, claiming that he had something important to busy himself with in his study, but it was more likely that he simply wanted Helena to have some time to catch up with her sister. Helena and Ivy sat together, chattering constantly about Lienid, Lucy was unable to understand the majority of it, and focused in on her toast and tea for the most part. She thought that she would like Lienid, it seemed like a friendly place, and it would be amazing to see Ror City, she thought. It was hard to imagine a castle on a rock so enormous that large loads have to be lifted up by ropes. She wanted the chance to see it. While it all sounded lovely, Lucy knew that she would not be comfortable away for Cair Paravel, or more over Narnia itself, for years, as it was her home. Lienid was her mother's home. How was Helena able to live away from Lienid for fourteen years, and not seem to miss it terribly?

"How is Prince Tealiff faring?" Helena asked her sister while pouring another cup of tea for both women and the girl seated. She was referring to the Lienid king's brother.

Nodding, Ivy said, "As well as anyone in his great age can. You do remember what he's like. He bothers no one and sits by the sea day in and day out, playing with his young great-grandchildren. And the rest of the royal family is quite well; as I am sure you were curious. Lienid has been rather unchanged since you were there last."

Sighing, Helena murmured, "I suppose that is one of the charms to being so remotely away from the rest of the Seven Kingdoms, and from the world."

"Yes, well, some may call it charming." Ivy said, and then coughed primly. "Helena, I must be honest with you now. I was never on my way to Galma in the first place; I was hoping to be invited to Cair Paravel. I wished to become reacquainted with you, for one, but then I did have an ulterior motive."

"You always have," Helena smiled. "And what is it this time?"

"Well, you most likely do not know, but my oldest son was recently married, therefore, in my house we have an extra room, and I, along with my children and husband, would like to borrow Lucy for a year."

Lucy perked up in a moment, smiling broadly, but Helena choked on her tea. "You want to…borrow, my daughter for a year?"

Ivy nodded. "Yes, well, we all talked about it. It was, technically, Marjorie's idea—oh, my sixth daughter, she will be fourteen this month. Either way, we all supposed it would be a rather charming idea to invite Lucy into our home for a year. Three to six months was the original thought, but we felt as though it is too long a travel for someone with Lucy's condition to endure so close together. We supposed that Lucy would be able to learn about Lienid customs and culture, as I have the feeling that she does not know very much as she's standing with us today. And then she would be able to teach us about Narnian culture. Jack is simply dying to learn more about it. If anything, it would be an educational experience. Not only that, but she would be able to meet her family. Oh, Lucy, I hope you'll excuse me for speaking of you as though you weren't in front of me the entire time."

Lucy brightened. "Oh, that's all right. Do you really mean it? May I go, Mum? May I?"

Helena stared at her daughter. "Do you truly want to go all the way across the world? For a year?"

Nodding, Lucy said, "I would love to meet my family, and to see Lienid." She kept her desire for freedom in her heart, even though it almost felt like lying to omit that detail, but she knew she could not bring it to words successfully. She did not wish to escape her parents, merely the strict rules that smothered her, and they did not want them to think that she was trying to leave them, or that she did not care.

"Well, Ivy," Helena turned to her sister. "In theory, it really is a brilliant idea. However, as you very well know, Lucy is quite a bit more…fragile than other girls are at her age. I'm not sure I want her traveling so far on her own. Also, if she hurts herself while in Lienid? Well all know all of the hand fighting that goes on."

Ivy shrugged it off. "She wouldn't have to go alone. I am leaving soon, so I won't expect an answer by the time I leave, but you may take a whole entourage if it is what you wish. And, she will not hurt herself. It is true that she is very nearly not a child at all anymore, but I can still care for her. She will not engage in the hand fighting, it is rather simple, sister. She will be in my care all while she is in Lienid, and while she is traveling, once again, you could have the entire Narnian army accompany her through the more unstable Kingdoms. Besides all of that, Lucy seems to truly want this, don't you, sweetheart?"

"Yes, very much. Please, Mum, oh, please." This was her ticket to the freedom she never knew. She did not want it to slip away from her, but she would not deliberately disobey her mother. If Helena said that she could not go, she would leave it alone. It hurt no one, and although it would not make her happy, there was more to being a mother than simply making her happy.

Sighing, Helena said. "I will tell you what I'll do. I am going to speak with Frank about this. I'm not going to give an answer without his say. I will tell him about the thinking behind it, and all of the precautions, and I will get back to you both afterward. In the meantime, I do not want to hear anything else about this."

Even though Helena did not want to talk about it, this did not mean that Lucy did not talk about it. If you asked Master Tumnus, he would tell you that the young princess talked off it rather incessantly. "Imagine, Tumnus, if I went to Lienid for a while. All of the things that could happen! It's supposed to be beautiful there in the warmer seasons, and I would meet people, and find out about where my mother lived. Aunt Ivy told me secretly once that she wouldn't be surprised if my story ended up being my mother's in reverse, though I'm not sure what she meant."

Tumnus was able to guess that Ivy meant that Lucy might meet a Lienid man, fall in love with, and marry him, just as Helena had fallen for the Narnian prince, but he did not vocalize this. Instead, he simply said, "I thought you loved Narnia, you have never seemed to want to leave before."

"Oh, it isn't that!" Lucy reassured him. "By the Lion, it certainly isn't that. It's only that…well, if I miss out on this, I may never have the chance to have any amount of freedom ever again."

"It means that much to you?" Tumnus asked his eyebrow quivering.

Lucy nodded, and Tumnus put his lips into a line. "I see."

XXXXXXXX

It almost took a month for Helena to successfully ask her husband about this, and a few weeks after that for them to come to a decision. They, in fact, had not started discussing it until Ivy had been gone for a few weeks. The wait was nearly maddening for Lucy, but she waited patiently for Tumnus's sake. She knew that he was not terribly interested in her desire to go to Lienid.

Then, over dinner one day, Frank made the announcement. "Lucy," he said midway through their meal. "You may go to Lienid for a year."

Lucy brightened like the sun in the sky. "Really? Oh, thank you! Thank you both!"

"Be still for a moment," Frank said, chuckling. "We have conditions. One, when passing you must stop in Telmar for at least two days. The stop at the Telmarine court will give you a chance to rest completely, and get more traveling supplies. As I'm friendly with King Caspian, it will be safe for you. The second condition, Master Tumnus will accompany you, and you must do everything he says without questioning it. If he says to stop gazing out the window in the carriage, you will. It's nearly a eight week journey to Lienid, are you sure you want to do this?"

Nodding once again, Lucy said, "Yes, I am certain. Thank you again! Both of you!"

The next few weeks were filled with planning and packing. King Frank sent letters to both Telmar and Lienid, as well as to one of the more grand inns in the kingdom known as Middluns, which was in the center of all of the Seven Kingdoms, to request that they would provide their services to Princess Lucy if it were necessary, and the same with an inn in Monsea.

As time drew closer for Lucy's departure, her parents became increasingly worried. The night before, Helena sat awake in bed for hours, naming out all of her worries. "But then, what will happen if she gets injured on the way out? Or on the way crossing the Seven Kingdoms, what if someone tries to take the carriage away—yes, I know that's why we are not sending her in the royal carriages, but one never knows. Then, putting the constant issue of her health aside, what if she gets homesick? Say, why do you think she wanted to leave so badly? Do you think she wanted to get away from us? Frank? Frank! Are you sleeping?"

Frank lazily rolled over to face his wife. "No, my sweet."

"How can you be sleeping at a time like this?"

Letting out a great yawn, Frank said, "It's going to be difficult enough seeing Lucy away for a year, even with a full night's sleep. In the meantime, I'm focusing on how things are. The longer this has been a possibility, the longer I'm certain that no harm will come to her while she's in Lienid, and even on her way. Aslan will watch over her."

"You sound awfully certain," Helena bit her lip.

"I am. Now, enough of this, Helena," Frank sat up and kissed his wife. "Let's go to sleep."

Morning came more quickly than the king and the queen had anticipated. They dressed and slowly, more slowly than they even realized, walked down to the breakfast table. Lucy was already there, eating her vegetables and drinking tea. It was rather silent that morning, other than the usual inquiries to how Lucy was feeling.

When it came time to see Lucy away, Helena was doing all she could not to cry, even as the footmen loaded Lucy's trunks onto the carriage. Lucy would not be riding in the royal carriage, but a fair sized one, with comfortable seats and a soft covering all around on the inside for sake of her not bruising herself on the interior.

Lucy turned to her parents, her eyes glistening with tears. "Well, then I suppose I'll see you both in a year."

Both females present had tears down their cheeks; Frank attempted to keep his composure, but was nearly failing. "We'll miss you, darling." Helena said.

"I'll miss you too." Lucy said. "But I'll write. That's bound to make it a little better."

"Be careful," Frank said, as he had to keep mostly silent, or else he would find himself tearing as well, and kings were not supposed to be the sort who would tear up at seeing his almost fifteen-year-old daughter away for one year, and to a country where he knew she was going to be cared for.

Lucy nodded, and threw her arms around both of her parents' shoulders. She kissed their cheeks, and they did the same, before she stepped into the carriage, followed by Tumnus, who stumbled on the step for a bit. Lucy sat next to the window, and waved all the time until Cair Paravel slid away from sight.

Sitting back into the soft seat, Lucy smiled, "We're on our way to Lienid, Tumnus. Can you believe it?"

"It will definitely be a memorable experience," Tumnus said. "I'm supposed to teach you about the Seven Kingdoms before you get there, but as I do not know very much about it myself, we'll have to learn together. Do you mind?"

"Not at all," Lucy smiled, although a little disappointed that she had to start lessons straightaway.

"Let me quiz you on what I already know," Tumnus opened a large book with leather binding that Helena gave him, an old textbook from the Seven Kingdoms. "What are the Seven Kingdoms called, and who are their kings?"

"Let me see," Lucy said, thinking back to what her mother had told her about this, "In the north, there is Nander, and their king is King Drowden, in the east, there's Estill, and they have King Thigpen. Middluns is in the center, and their king is King Randa. Sunder is in the south, and their king is…Birn?"

The faun shook his head. "Sunder's king is King Murgon. Birn is king of Wester, in the west."

"All right, then of course, there's Lienid, the Island Kingdom to the Far West. Their king is King Ror. Oh, and then in the Southeast, there is Monsea, and their king is King Leck."

Tumnus nodded, and the rest of the lesson began. Lienid and Monsea were the most peaceful out of the Seven Kingdoms, King Ror and King Leck seemed to share a hatred for conflicted, and liked the fact that both Lienid and Monsea were away from the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. The sea separated Lienid, and mountains separated Monsea. Neither one of the two were in treaties with each other, however, as they were too far away to make anything work. The lessons that day ended in a crash-course on Lienid culture, and how it varied from the other six, how King Ror did not make treaties or deals with the other kingdoms, and traded with all of the seven, and treated his own people fairly. It was said that he was the only decent king on the Seven Kingdoms, save for perhaps, King Leck. However, little was known about Monsea, but King Leck had the reputation for being kind to small children and animals.

After the lesson ended, Lucy said, "Well, what's the matter with the other five? We focused on Lienid today, and I understand why, but the only other king they seemed to like in this book was King Leck. Why?"

Tumnus looked through the book, "It seems like the other kings are unstable, and power hungry. King Randa, evidentially, has a girl working for him, Graced with…oh, what's this? _Killing_ people? Oh, how simply dreadful!"

"She's Graced with killing people?" Lucy repeated, taken aback. "That's terrible! Although, perhaps, she's nice. Aunt Ivy told me that no one has the choice with what they're Graced with."

"Well, she goes around the Kingdoms, killing or injuring those who cross Randa—if they have a tax unpaid, or embarrassed him or a closer member of the court."

Lucy made her mouth a line. "I do see what you meant by the others being unstable. King Randa seems like little more than a bully. I don't want to stop in that inn in Middluns anymore."

Tumnus managed to crack a small grin. "You aren't going to blame all of the people for what their king does, are you?"

Sighing, Lucy said, "Oh, of course not. I didn't realize that that's what I was doing. Well, when we do stop in the Middluns, I hope we'll never come across that bully King Randa."

As Lucy settled against the window, with a blanket on her shoulders for the night, she watched Narnia pass by, willing herself to stay awake, because she couldn't help but wonder if Lienid would have the same constellations.

**A/N: Please review! **


	3. Westward Journey

Even though her neck was somewhat sore from the constant traveling, Lucy woke up in a rather good mood every morning. She always fell asleep staring out of the carriage window, breathing in the crisp night air and staring at the stars, or as it was the last day of traveling in Narnia, staring as fauns and dryads danced round a mighty bonfire and watched the lamppost give its steady glow into the forest. She thought, sadly, that that was the last sort of Narnian display of anything that she would see in a whole year. It did make her sad, but cheered her in remembering that, indeed, it was only for the year, and that she would be seeing things that, while they might not be as enchanting or charming, would be different and queer enough to keep her attention. Of that, she was certain. If only, she thought for only a moment, there was a way to bottle Narnia, and take it with her. However, one cannot have everything they wish for.

When she woke up, sometimes with the dawn, other times when the sun was high in the sky, she would simply talk lightly with Master Tumnus for an hour or so. Her breakfast was typically the usual mixed vegetables, but as they had to be cold from traveling, she usually got some buttered toast with that. This was rather exciting for Lucy, as she typically only ate bread at midday or evening meals.

"Tumnus," Lucy said one day, as they were riding through the Telmarine countryside, "How long are we going to stay in Telmar?"

"It's going to take five days of traveling, added to our stop at the Telmarine court for a few days, we should be here for a week or a day more. Would you like to stop and walk around for a bit?" The faun said, putting what could only be described as knitting down.

"Thank you." Lucy shook her head. "Not yet." Sometimes they would take breaks from their constant riding, and walk. Usually they did this for the morning and midday meals, so they could have a picnic, and to give their driver, who was a dryad, a break, and to give the horses respite as well. She knew that once they passed Telmar, it would be non-stop traveling for a week, throughout a long patch of the Western Wilds, until they reached Monsea.

"It's taking rather long, isn't it?" she said once.

Tumnus chuckled. "If you recall, it was you who said she wouldn't mind the long traveling time. It's eight weeks, remember."

"I still don't mind. It's only that everything is so…dead, here."

"Dead?" The faun's brow quivered.

"The trees," Lucy explained, gesturing to the thick Telmarine forest, where everything, aside from the occasional hopping rabbit, was still.

The stay in the Telmarine court was anticlimactic, to say the least. Lucy had been hoping that Prince Caspian X would have been present, for the two had been friendly the last time they saw each other, and what was more Prince Caspian was one of the only people who knew about Lucy's physical state, and treated her no differently after he knew than before. Not even her parents had done that. It was a moot point, however, because Caspian was away, visiting a town in southern Telmar. Lucy understood, as best as she could, that he had duties. However, because she was always cooped up at Cair Paravel at home, she did have a hard time realizing that most royal children went about and were seen by their subjects, at the very least.

For the three days they were in the court, Lucy amused herself by sitting on a concrete fountain, and watching the courtiers pass by. Everything was so much more angular and mechanical than it was in Narnia; the colors were darker, as well. Even the clothes of the courtiers were neutral and refused to stand out. In Narnia, one needed bright clothing not to stand out, amongst all of the people, but in Telmar, it was no such case.

While sitting in the carriage yet again, she wondered if Lienid would be anything like Telmar. Her aunt's carriage had looked a bit Telmarine, but it was not nearly as boring. All she knew of Lienid was about the rings, and a bit about the culture, it was so foreign to anything she ever knew, and it indeed made her impatient to get there.

If only, she thought once, there was a way to get to Lienid by ship. She was fond of sea travel, no matter how little of it she had done. Of course, even she knew that was impossible. If she set out for Lienid by ship, they would have had to go south of Calormen, and around all of the land, or north of Ettinsmoor, and that would take months if the weather held well. It was not as though there was a way to go west by going east, that would imply that the world was round, and that was ridiculous. Although, perhaps, it might be rather exciting to go to the points where one walks about upside down, but it was a moot point anyway, as the world was definitely flat. Lucy had to simply get used to the long carriage rides, and wait for the sea travel, when she left on a ship for Lienid from Westport in Wester.

While passing through the Western Wilds, it seemed as though the only thing Lucy was able to do was study. Tumnus had her sit with her back to the window, as they pored over the textbook Helena left them. It was not very much of a loss, aside from when they were passing the mountains. However, the Western Wilds were little more than a barren desert land, arid and dry, particularly the further away they got from Telmar. It all looked the same after a while, so Lucy was perfectly happy to study the Seven Kingdoms.

She learned that there was always constant trouble throughout the Seven Kingdoms, and most of it was the fault of the kings of Wester, Nander, and Estill. The Middluns stayed out of trouble, for the most part, only because of its place in the Kingdoms, dead center, it was bad to get involved in conflict—and of course, it must be discouraging to attack someone who has a Graced killer working for them. Nearly all of the kings, it seemed, treated their subjects almost as though they were prisoners. Thigpen would hang those who could not pay their taxes, for the lightest example. It was needless to say that Lucy was rather unimpressed with the lot of them.

When they reached the history section of the book, she learned that centuries ago, Wester, Nander, Estill, Sunder, and the Middluns, had all been from the same family, and that they could all coexist peacefully, but over time, it all melted away. Somehow, many unstable men had reached the throne. Lucy thought, with a shudder, what if Narnia and Archenland had reached the same fate? What if it wasn't Frank and Lune on the thrones of those countries? Exactly how upset would Aslan be? Would he be upset enough to do something about it?

"Tumnus," Lucy said one day, after an hour or so of studying, "why is it that none of these books mention Aslan, even once? He sang the whole world into existence, why don't they so much as even mention him, then?"

Tumnus scratched his head. "They belong to someone else, I think. They ought to belong to him, you know. It's a bit like Calormen, I think. Even though Aslan sang them into existence, they aren't his. They belong to their horrid god, Tash, just as the Narnians belong to Aslan. With the Seven Kingdoms, they don't think they're his. I am not sure who they belong to, the book says nothing about it, and your mother never speaks of it."

This little exchange upset Lucy. She had family in Lienid, and a lot of them. None of them knew a thing about Aslan? This was saddening to her. She made a mental note to make sure to speak of Aslan to her family, she would not try to force her faith in the Lion upon them, but she would certainly speak about him.

At night, it became very cold on this period of their travels. Lucy would wrap herself up in two blankets, and curl her knees to her chest so that she could more comfortably watch her foggy breath dance into the inky sky that went on forever.

XXXXXXX

She must have fallen asleep, although she could not tell you when. Lucy thought she could recall fist seeing the mountainous eastern border of Monsea shoot up from the dessert area surrounding her. It seemed as though she had only just been surrounded by cracked and dry land, without so much as one white cloud in the never-ending blue sky, she shut her eyes for a mere second, and all of a sudden, she was jolted awake, with no signs of mountains in front of her.

"Are you all right?" Master Tumnus asked, his voice laced with concern, and looking closely at her forehead.

"Of course," Lucy said, confused.

"You hit your head on the windowsill," the faun explained, understanding that she did not know what was going on. "We lurched forward out of nowhere." Then he called to the driver, "Is all well up there?"

The dryad's willowy voice responded, "Yes. One of the horses is simply acting up, so it seems. He should be behaving well soon once more."

"Tumnus," Lucy asked, after a moment. "Where are we?"

Tumnus pulled out his leather-bound textbook and Lucy had the feeling that she would be spending some time studying. "Monsea," he said. "You slept through the mountain pass we took (what a shortcut it was!), and now we're only a several miles from the capitol, where we'll take a rest for a few days."

Lucy looked out the window, she could see high mountains rising behind her, and green grass surrounding them on every side, they were just leaving a little forest, Lucy thought it was probably have the size of Owlwood, and little streams ran around her, it was all farming land, she saw. Narnia was not the best land for farming, but there were a few places, enough so she would know what it all looked like. Green valleys lay beyond the farmland, and just before that, there was what looked like a little white city, nestled between what looked like hills, and a great river running from either side of it.

It took a few minutes to tear Lucy away from the window, as she watched the Monsean countryside go by, and a little while longer to convince her to behave and study. Although all she wished for was a break from the lessons, she sat as Tumnus looked over the textbook, and finally said, "All right, since we're passing Monsea, why don't we look into Monsea today? What do you know about it?"

"Well," Lucy thought back to the first day of lessons, when they began with the overview, "There isn't very much known about it, because they're separated by the mountains. Their king is King Leck, the capitol is Leck City, and their main port is Monport. You know, Tumnus? Do you think that, perhaps, we might be able to take a ship to Lienid through Monport, instead of Westport? I am getting terribly sick of riding in this carriage."

"Oh, I do understand why you wish to stop; I am feeling rather claustrophobic myself. But, your mother arranged for us to go through carriages, and I'm sure she had her reasons. Perhaps we wouldn't be able to find a ship at Monport, or perhaps she simply wanted you to see as many as the Kingdoms as possible, but regardless, I'm listening to Queen Helena about this. I am terribly sorry, however."

Lucy could understand that. "All right. That's fine." She shrugged. "I would just prefer traveling by sea for a while, that's all."

Master Tumnus shot the princess an apologetic look, and resumed the lesson. "Here, look on this page of the textbook. It gives the lineage of the Monsean royals."

Lucy looked at it, tracing the family tree down on the page with her eyes. "Oh, look, Tumnus. King Leck was not related the Monsean king and queen before him, he wasn't even adopted, it looks like. He was simply named heir before the earlier king and queen died. Look at how young he was when he took the throne. It says he was sixteen."

Tumnus lowered his brow, and flipped the page. It went on to describe the lineage, as that seemed to be the only solid thing anyone knew about Monsea. The last paragraph was about King Leck, describing his animal shelters, where he kept small injured animals, and employed young orphans to take care after them.

"He seems nice," Lucy mused once she finished reading about Leck.

Nodding in agreement, Tumnus said, "Yes, he seems to be one of the two kings in this region that is in his right mind."

_In his right mind. _The words stuck in Lucy's mind, although she could not tell you why. They seemed strange, almost alien, and, even though it made no sense, they did not seem to fit.

**A/N: Sorry that this was a shorter chapter, I wrote it longhand in a new notebook, so I didn't know exactly how many pages in that it would be to work with my usual chapter-legnth. Anyhow, please review and let me know what you think. **


	4. Monsea

Lucy stared at the long blue river as the carriage loped on beside it. The sun was bright that morning, and the little pinpoints of light on the water sparkled and moved around madly, like hundreds of fireflies. She continued to watch the pinpoints, and smiled as her imagination took over and the lights moved around, and came together to form what looked like a sort of dog running against the current, and stretch up to take the image of a human, or perhaps a faun, changing at every little bump in the road. She rested her chin on her arm, and the sun hit her cheeks and warmed them; she relished the warming feeling for as long as she could, wondering when Tumnus would tell her to put her head back in the window, for fear of sunburn. Sunburn had nothing to do with hemophilia, or if it did, Lucy had not the slightest idea how; but she had been scolded for allowing the sun to redden her cheeks before, and she did not want a repeat of that particular scenario.

"Tumnus?" she asked, after a moment, still watching the river. "Is the inn inside the city?"

"Yes, I believe so," the faun said, not quite raising his eyes from his knitting. "Either inside of the city or right on the outer edge."

Lucy smiled. "Oh, this should be interesting. My first city visit in the Seven Kingdoms! I wonder how different it's going to be from what we already know, and how different it will be compared to Ror City once we get to Lienid?"

"I think that it will be quite unlike anything we have seen," Tumnus said. "Beaversdam is so small in stature in comparison, and it should be a great deal more pleasant than a place like Tashbaan."

Lucy opened her mouth to speak, but just as she went to do so, the carriage lurched forward, at almost ten times the force of before, and would not stop rocking. She shot out her hands on the seat to keep her balance, and kicked the door open. She almost didn't hear Tumnus's warning to wait for him to get out, so she would be less likely to hurt herself in the fall, and she jumped out of the carriage, mere seconds before Tumnus flew out. She stepped back to watch the spectacle, with the dryad gripping the reigns and pulling at them violently, trying in extreme attempt the calm the horses. The animals were pawing into the dirt road, bucking, and kicking furiously, absolutely mad.

Tumnus was at Lucy's side. "Did you hurt yourself falling? Oh, you shouldn't have gone in front. What if you scraped yourself on a stone, or bruised yourself on the way down? Goodness, you would have…I can't say it!"

Lucy did not answer, as she was too troubled with watching the dryad attempt to calm down the horses to even bother with Tumnus's raves, in fact, she scarcely noticed the two uniformed figures come closer on horseback until they were interrupted by the voice.

"What's going on here?" an almost posh voice rang through, and Lucy turned to see a boy, around her own age, perhaps a year younger. He was a rather puny thing, particularly next to the girl on a horse beside him, who looked his age, but appeared far taller. He finally took in the scene, and called over to the girl next to him. "Jill, get those horses under control."

The girl, Jill, nodded and dismounted. She came closer to the animals, clicking her tongue to them, and then, as soon as she got close enough, said, "All right, calm down now. You were only spooked. No, you weren't attacked. Just a little spooked. Come along now. It's going to be all right."

The instant the words escaped her lips, the horses stopped. One of the two even went so far as to nudge her with its muzzle.

"How did you do that?" The dryad asked, almost panting from the sudden adrenaline rush of trying to control two maddened horses.

Jill giggled, "I suppose you could call it a gift. You aren't from around here, are you?"

It was then that Lucy was able to take the two in fully. One of Jill's eyes was blue and the other was a cheery orange color, and her companion's eyes were a light gray and brown, they looked rather nice, if not a bit dull.

"What brings you to Monsea?" the boy said. "And, I say, where are you from?"

"We're only just passing through," Tumnus said. "And as for where we're from," he exhaled funnily, as it honestly should have been rather obvious. "Narnia."

"You're Narnians?" Jill asked eyebrows high.

"That would be implied," the boy muttered, not as though it was his intention to be unkind, but as though he was thinking, and not exactly minding his tone. "We already knew that you were certainly eastern, but Narnian! By Jove, you'll have to come along with us, then. King Leck has mentioned his interest in the Narnian culture and creatures. He'll want us to take you, the lot of you, to him. I'm Eustace, by the way, and this is Lady Jill."

"Pleased to meet you," Lucy said, almost at the same time that Tumnus introduced her, himself, and the driver. Once he was done, she said, "Your eyes, they mean that you're Graced, don't they?"

Somewhat baffled, Lady Jill said, "Of course, Princess. You don't have Gracelings in Narnia? Well, I can make animals understand me. And, as far as Eustace goes—"

Eustace coughed rather loudly, and by looking up at him, he genuinely looked upset. Jill sent him an apologetic look, and continued rushed, "But, as I said, "I can talk with animals, particularly equines. I don't control them or anything like that, but I can make them understand me."

Eustace fiddled with the reigns in his hand. "Shouldn't we be getting back, though? King Leck will certainly want to meet the princess."

"Would we be welcome?" Tumnus asked.

"Nothing else," Eustace reassured them. "As I already said, the king has spoken quite a bit about the eastern lands, and his Majesty's expressed a rather special interest in Narnia. We're sure he will at least want to meet you."

How nice, Lucy thought, that this king would have an interest in Narnia. It would work out rather well, she supposed, as she had mentioned that he would certainly be a nice person to meet.

Without further ado, Eustace and Jill led the way to King Leck's castle on their horses, with the carriage rolling along speedily behind them. Lucy sat, staring at Leck City roll by. The houses were long and stone, and they were all human dwellings, not a single home for any other species was around. People around the city walked and rode their horses, going about their lives, but when Eustace and Jill came into view, people would step aside to allow those who worked for their king to pass by, but with their eyes lowered, some sniggering under their breaths. Children playing in vacant fields stopped and gawked as the Gracelings passed, some of them, even in an offensive way, other's pretended to not even see them.

"Tumnus," Lucy asked, "Why did they act like that? Those children and some of the adults, as well. It's as though they all don't like them."

"Perhaps they don't." Tumnus said. "You know that there are people who dislike things, simply because they are different. Gracelings are different, in the Kingdoms, they are extremely rare, after all. It's possible that they avoid Eustace and Lady Jill because they aren't like other people."

"That shouldn't be an excuse." Lucy said. "But, wait, Aunt Ivi was never avoided by anyone in Lienid, was she?"

Tumnus looked at her, "No, your mother's sister is honored, but that is Lienid. Queen Helena has mentioned, more than once, that the Lienid people treat the Graced far better than the other Kingdoms. However, I'm not sure exactly why. Perhaps we shall learn more on our crossing the Kingdoms."

Lucy bit down on her lip, thinking. It would be all too terrible if people truly were treated badly simply because they were Graced. In Narnia, there were so many different sorts of people, that there was very little widespread prejudice within. Naturally, some people still kept these unfair feelings, but they were not typical, or tolerated by most decent Narnians.

"I wonder if King Leck feels the same way about Gracelings that the rest of the Monsean people seem to?" Lucy mulled. She did not think that it was very likely he would. From what she heard, and from the inflection in both Jill and Eustace's voices, the King Leck did not seem like the sort who would openly condone such cruel things.

Looking out the window, Lucy noticed that the castle, for the first time. On the base of a rolling hill, it was made of white stone, a friendly similarity to Cair Paravel, Lucy noted, but color was where the similarities ceased. Leck's castle was almost three times the size of Cair Paravel, and twice the size of the Telmarine castle, and was very square, with enormous, broad towers. Flags waved high above the tallest towers, and as the castle proved to be a sort of bridge over the river, there was a long moat around, and what was possibly the tallest drawbridge Lucy had ever seen.

There was a queer feeling inside her stomach as she stared at the castle, and the vast towers, it was a bubbling and apprehensive feeling that gave her the feeling that something strange, something exciting, and important would happen during her visit in the court of King Leck, what it was, however, she hadn't the slightest idea.

XXXXXXXXX

King Leck was a tall, somewhat muscular man in his early thirties, with blonde hair peeking out from under his crown, and an eye patch. He always wore flowing robes, and had a rather charming disposition. So charming, in fact, that no one ever seemed to mind his personal guard of Graced fighters he seemed to keep with him at all times. Everyone in Monsea thought so, everyone it seemed, aside from a single member of King Leck's own personal guard. However, he did everything in his power to hide this, his young life depended on it; even though he was rather unsure what exactly he was living for.

He stood against the wall in Leck's throne room, his hand on the hilt of his sword, standing absolutely straight, and trying with all of his might to pretend that he was listening to his king as intently as the others were. Edmund was sure that his eyes were not nearly as glassy as the others' were, and he was certain that Leck was aware of it, and yet there was nothing to be done about it.

The king was sitting on his golden throne, speaking with the princess of the far eastern country, Narnia. _Narnia. _At the name of the country, he felt his heart pump in his stomach. Out of all of the countries in the world, why did the Narnian princess have to come waltzing into Leck City? After all he had gone through, he had to stand there and watch Narnians. He watched the exchange between King Leck and Princess Lucy, as he was not willing to even spare a look at the faun or the dryad, it would be too much for him to take.

"You were passing by, on your way to Lienid, when the horse went mad, out of nowhere? Is that correct, Princess?" Leck said, after Lucy had relayed her story to him.

The horse was spooked, Edmund corrected inside his head, I heard it the first time.

"Yes," Lucy said, as though she did not remember entirely what had happen. "That sounds correct, your Majesty."

Leck put his hand on his chin, "It would be awfully dangerous for such a young girl to be traveling so far, and through such corrupt Kingdoms, don't you think? Who knows what the lowly, perverse thieves on the road might try to do? It _is_ quite the predicament, really. Oh, I know!" he clapped his hands together, and a shiver ran up Edmund's spine as Leck continued. "Wouldn't it be so much nicer if you were to stay in the court of a friend? Far better than with strangers, as it seems your family is. No, that simply will not go over, my friend. You shall stay in Monsea. The journey is too dangerous for a young princess. I insist."

"I'm sure that we can stay, if you want us to." Lucy said, looking back to the faun.

"But, of course." Leck said. "I will give you, and your tutor, chambers in the southern wing, and a maid shall prepare that. In the meantime, there will be no way getting around this; we will have to give you a guard. You must not be wandering around unsupervised, naturally."

Lucy nodded, as though understanding, and yet with the same expression as earlier, as if she hadn't the foggiest idea what was going on. "Of course not."

Leck looked amongst his guards, and when Edmund felt his single eye pass over him, he remained straight, and tried to keep the same witless expression as the other guards. At once, he boomed, "Edmund, step forward."

Trying not to cringe, Edmund did so, bowing at the waist at his king, and bowing slightly to the foreign princess. He, then, turned wordlessly to Leck.

"I am reassigning you," Leck said. "You are to be Princess Lucy's guard while she's in Monsea. You know all that that entails. Go and take her, and her Master Tumnus, to the chambers on the southern side, where they shall remain until it is time to eat, where the princess shall dine with my wife, my daughter, and myself. The dryad shall remain with me."

"As you wish," Edmund said on level breath, or as level as he could manage, and then turned and said to Lucy, "Come along now, Princess."

He had not been in the southern side of the castle in at least a year, and for good reason. He could not help but wonder if Leck was aware what sort of pain set inside him whenever he entered these chambers, and whenever anything Narnian was brought up. If Leck did know, Edmund would be rather surprised.

They approached the room, and Edmund could hear the faun's cloven hooves hit the stone floor in a quick even pace. He had to bite back any feeling that was coming into him as he forced the door open. When he did, he could not believe his eyes. The chambers were exactly how they looked before, back when they belonged to someone. They all still had the red and white colors, the bright wooden flooring with the soft rugs laid out every which way. The first room was a dining room, with a long mahogany table, polished and perfect, with a rather large number of chairs. In the center was a shining candelabrum. The next was a sitting room, with soft and warm chairs and a fireplace that could get so hot that one would be sweating in December. There were two bedchambers after this, one to the left and one to the right. His best assumption was that the faun would take one of the two, and the Princess would take the other. He would be forced to sleep on the sofa, or on blankets on the floor. Then, as he knew there would be, there was an indoor washroom, with a porcelain bathtub, and even a chamber pot. The last room to accompany these southern chambers was the changing room. A long spare room with nothing but a wardrobe pushed against one wall. Naturally, there was the balcony attached to the finer bedchamber, but that did not truly count as a room.

Suddenly, the princess let out a gasping noise. "Look, Tumnus," she said walking over to the fireplace. "It looks rather Narnian, doesn't it?"

Edmund knew what she was gesturing to, without even having to look. It was obviously the golden Lion head that Peter had so insisted they add into the room, it was large and molded from an enormous battle shield. He had mixed feelings about this Lion head, and he was unsure if it made him afraid, or guilty. However, there was something that he had to know, and it would do no good waiting until after supper was over. "Princess, may I ask you a question, and be entirely up front with you?"

"Of course," she said, still staring at the Lion head.

He inhaled, "Do you remember what just happened? In the throne room with King Leck, I mean."

Turning around, she nodded, and then blinked, as though the facts were darting around her head, fuzzy, and inconsistent. "Well, I remember that we're staying here for awhile. Since, it's too dangerous to cross the Kingdoms. And that you're supposed to be my guard."

He frowned grimly. It was to be expected, after all, she had no way to know, and even if she did, she would be just as defenseless as Peter and Susan were. Edmund had to turn around to avoid being seen with tears springing up to his eyes, but he could not blink them away, for every time he shut them, he saw the red blood, and the slashes through both of his friends' throats.

XXXXXXX

Neither Lucy nor Tumnus quite knew what to make of the past few events. They could hardly remember how they came to meet Eustace and Jill. The situations in Leck's throne room were hazy as well, although they could both remember the basic gist. For Lucy, it was like there was a queer gray fog slowly creeping into her mind, making it harder to be sure of what she was thinking. It was lesser in her chambers than it had been everywhere else, as she stared at the golden head of Aslan, as she was positive that was what it was supposed to be. Why it was in Monsea, she did not quite know, but she was glad. Perhaps, she thought, the Monsean people are familiar with him, and they do belong to him. She so hoped they did.

Momentarily, she took her mind away from the head of Aslan, and turned around to face Edmund, the boy that was to be her guard for as long as she was in Monsea. As she watched Edmund, standing uncomfortably at the side of the wall, she decided that she thought he was rather attractive. She knew very few humans; other than her parents, humans tended to be more middle-class citizens in Narnia, and so the princess had few opportunities to befriend them, and she did not know what precisely made them attractive in the typical fashion. However, since it was her own opinion, she decided it didn't matter. He was rather tall, a bit lanky really, with dark hair and gripping eyes. One of his eyes was a bright green, almost the shade it would be in a cat, and the other was deep amber. He did not look happy, however, in fact, he looked a bit miserable. The worst part was, he looked used to being miserable.

"Do you want to join us sitting down, Edmund?" she called out to him.

Lowering a brow, Edmund said, "You want me to sit down with you and your tutor?"

"Of course," Lucy said, as though it was the most common thing in the world. "If you want to, you look lonely standing by yourself."

It was strange, Edmund thought. He had all of the power in the world to, for once, not do what someone higher than him in station wanted. His life did not depend on acting as though he lacked a brain, and yet, he went and sat down. He silently claimed to himself that it was because he was so used to following the commands of royalty, and yet, he knew that was not the reason. The fact was, he wanted to sit down with them.

Tumnus began asking questions, and Edmund could scarcely keep up enough to answer them. The faun asked about Monsean law, something it appeared that Edmund knew a lot about, and he asked, somewhat delicately, about the treatment of the Graced.

Edmund explained to them, somewhat impatiently, "When a baby, or a toddler, wakes up and they have two different colored eyes, they're taken away instantly to live in the court of their king. This happens in five out of the six Kingdoms. Nurses and maids raise them, until their Grace makes itself known. This usually happens in young childhood, it's very rare for it not to happen when they are young, although it does happen. Once the Grace appears, if it is useful, such as something having to do with fighting, or even something like cooking, the child is given a job in court, and they begin their work for their king. If their Grace is useless, like swimming or eating rocks, they are sent back to their parents with a letter of apology."

"A letter of apology?" Lucy echoed.

Edmund nodded. "The Graced are different, we can be dangerous. No one likes the company of the Graced, Princess."

If Lucy had been more like her father, she would have told Edmund then and there, that she liked the company of at least one Graced person, but the bit of Helena inside of her made her keep her mouth shut.

**A/N: Please review! **


	5. Supper, Shelters, and Fog

It seemed as though the entire Monsean court came to supper that night. Every single seat occupied on the longest, highest table Lucy had ever seen. To the right and left of the high table, there were two considerably smaller tables, and on each, sat the Graced courtiers conveniently away from the others. There were Graced people who, while they were not sitting down, were bustling to and fro in the dining room, whether they were carrying plates or simply trying to get from one wing of the castle to the other, there was a whole group of them, and all of them were ignored. From seeing all of them, Lucy could scarcely believe that Gracelings were rare, but when she expressed this, Tumnus reminded her that these were nearly all of the Graced people in Monsea. In such a large country, that number of people was, indeed, not very high at all. Lucy had, admittedly, hoped to find a seat at the tables for the Graced, and sit with Eustace and Jill, or even to sit with Edmund, at least then she would have a familiar face. No such thing happened. When she had pulled out a vacant chair beside a dark Graceling boy, and across from Jill, she was immediately called to the front, to sit on the left of King Leck himself.

The arrangement of the high table looked very exact and almost finicky, King Leck sat at the head, with his wife, Queen Ashen, to his right. On the other side of the queen was Princess Bitterblue, who was half of Lucy's age. On Leck's left, sat Lucy, and next to her was Tumnus. Everyone else at the high table were strangers, even though they all looked rather cheery.

The table was filled with large plates of the most decadent-looking food. Plates and plates of roast lamb, beef, capons, goose, and salmon lined the front of the table. Lucy had never seen so much meat in her life, especially in the diversity they were put out; just the lamb was available on three different plates, one covered in a rich, thick meaty gravy, the other in a sweet-looking fruit sauce, and then the third was dry. There were baskets of bread, just on the table, piled high and proud, right next to a rather large tub of butter. It also had a large bowl of leafy greens and colorful vegetables, right in the center of the table. Compared to the rest of the rich colors of the food, the vegetables looked like a mere decoration. On the lower tables, there were pitchers full of wine or ale on the table itself, but a few serving maids had the responsibility of serving the drinks to the high table.

Lucy was, primarily, a vegetarian, as it was the healthiest for her condition, but this did not mean that she would pass up a plate of meat if she were allowed to have it. Tumnus noted the way she was gawking at the table, and sent her a warning look. It was a sketchy situation, neither of them knew if she would wake up ill if she indulged in that meal, it was quite possible, as she was unused to the food available. Lucy nodded to him, and inwardly agreed that she would stick with her usual diet.

Because King Leck's interest in Narnia had been brought up more than once, one would assume that the king would have asked Lucy rather incessantly about the eastern country, about laws, standards, this or that, the people, or just about anything concerning it. However, this was not the case; in fact, King Leck barely spoke throughout the beginning of the meal, leaving Queen Ashen to inquire about their guests.

Queen Ashen was beautiful. In her mid to late twenties, she had long black hair and large gray eyes that shimmered in the light. Her features were smarter than they were on most women, her nose straighter, her jaw more defined, and yet there was a sort of unconventional beauty about her. She had golden rings on her fingers and hoops in her ears, the reminder that she was the king of Lienid's sister, and the crown on her head was the reminder that she was the Queen of Monsea.

After inquiring politely about the political state of Narnia, Ashen went on to ask, "And your mother? Helena is well, I hope?"

Nodding, Lucy said, "Yes, the last time I saw her, she was well." Then she went on to ask, "You were friends with Mum, your Majesty?"

"Rather close ones at that," Ashen said, with a smile on her face. "We used to always jest that we never wanted to sit through a dull meeting about the affairs of the region, and were happy that we did not have to. Naturally fate would put us at the head of two countries very foreign from where we grew up."

Lucy smiled and stabbed a piece of lettuce with her fork. She could not help but notice the Princess Bitterblue had been eyeing her plate with some confusion. Eventually, Bitterblue spoke up about it. "Don't Narnians eat meat, Princess?" she asked.

"Bitterblue," Ashen said, "don't be impolite."

"It's all right," Lucy said, not seeing what was so impolite about Bitterblue's question. "I don't mind. Narnians do eat meat, but I don't."

Bitterblue's brow lowered, but she did not ask any more questions. Lucy continued speaking with Queen Ashen, for the most part. The two mostly talked about Ashen's friendship with Helena, and what they would do when they were young. Some of the things that the two did seemed quite adventurous, but Ashen's tone indicated that it was perfectly usual for the Lienid to race their way up mountains paths and it did not seem abnormal, or even particularly adventurous for them at all. Regardless, it was quite amusing for Lucy to hear stories of her mother as a child, and to notice the subtly that ruled Helena's nature. It was a refreshing reminder of home. It had not occurred to Lucy before that she may get homesick while away, and she only realized this when she was talking to this old friend of her mother's. She would have to write back home, she decided, and she would tell both her parents how she had started to miss them, and the Narnian court, the court without segregation and with all of the familiar faces.

While she was thinking about this, King Leck stood and all of the tables were silent. Leck's voice rang clearly through the room. "Dear friends," he said, his single eye passing over almost everyone. "Welcome to our rather special feast tonight! We have very good reason to dine happily today—very happily, for we are welcoming Princess Lucy of Narnia into her new home. She will now be living with all of us, in our home, along with her tutor Master Tumnus."

Luck smiled and nodded to the welcoming faces of the Monsean court, but then, in a moment, something did not feel right. It was as though the gray fog was taking over again, and she could inwardly see it. She was left with the sudden realization that she could not think, at least not in depth. Then, oddly enough, like some telltale moonlight sneaking in through heavy curtains, there was another fog creeping into her brain. A golden fog that seemed much less terrifying, murky, and so much more brilliant. The gold filled into her head and occupied every part of her brain that was not already filled with the gray. It was like a misty sunrise, covered in the gray smog, but with the golden promise of what was going on behind the clouds. She could not shake the gray away, and she had no idea why it was there, or even what it was, but what was, perhaps, the most frightening of it all was that Lucy's own thoughts and jurisdiction was barely present in this picture, it was the starry sky behind the sunrise.

When the gold entered her mind, and after it settled in, she found that there seemed to be something amiss. The king was saying that she was to live with him and every one else in Monsea, and that her new home was in Leck City. This did not seem wrong, but it did not seem correct either. For one, her parents would not send her halfway across the world forever, would they? For the other thing, she seemed to think that there was something about Lienid involved. Wasn't she on her way to Lienid? No, she thought, that must be wrong.

King Leck was continually talking about how everyone was to make Lucy feel welcome and to help her in any way that they could, as long as they were on Monsean soil, as well as to help Master Tumnus with anything he wanted to know, within reason. "More or less," he said, closing his speech, "I want to you make the princess and her tutor feel welcome and as though they were your dearest friends; as they should be."

There was something strange going on, but she could not put her finger on it. Perhaps she was confused, thinking that Lienid was in her thoughts because of her conversation with Queen Ashen. After all, Ashen had been Helena's friend, and the two were both from Lienid. That confusion in Lucy's mind must have been from that.

Then, suddenly, like a candle blown out in one breath, the golden fog was gone, and her mind was nothing short of blank.

XXXXXXXXX

The animal shelter was located extremely close to Leck's castle; close enough that one might be able to slip from the shelter and back to the castle without being seen. It was designed to look like a single level estate of perhaps a lord or a lady, and it would be easy to make this misinterpretation if it were not for the image of a scrawny squirrel cast in wood over the door.

After supper that first night, Lucy was asked to accompany King Leck to the shelter, to look over some of the animals, along with Tumnus and Edmund. It was during this time that Leck seemed the most inquisitive, and during this time, that Lucy found her mind covered with the gray fog in excess. "And, tell me, Princess," Leck said. "What are the Talking Beasts of Narnia truly like?"

Lucy blinked. "Well, they are people." She said trying to make sure she was speaking plainly enough to be understood. "They act like anyone else. I'm afraid I'm not sure what you're asking, exactly."

Leck frowned. "Well, no matter. These Beasts, they think like humans? Exactly the same?"

"No, not really," Lucy said. "They have some other skills, for one. Talking Horses may jump fences, and talking Beavers can build dams. But, there is a bit of a different…way of thinking. Humans can have one state of mind as a race, and then the Beasts can have another."

"And, then the dryads and fauns and such, they think differently, too?" Leck's eye shifted over to Tumnus, who was clopping up the hall shortly behind them.

Lucy nodded. "Not too different, I mean, as I said, we're all people. It's like the difference in the way people think here, to the way people think in Lienid or Sunder. I'm sorry, I'm not explaining myself very well."

"On the contrary." Leck said, rubbing his chin in thought. "Well, shall we see how the animals are doing?"

Leck opened the door wide, and in the shadows of a large room, with comfortable looking animal beds and large water and food troughs, there was a large array of puppies, of every breed imaginable, cowering in the corner, shaking and whimpering. Lucy sighed, "Oh, the poor things!"

Edmund grunted in the background, but his voice went unheard through Lucy's recognition of something similar to all of the puppies in the room, and she wanted to vomit. All of them had long cuts up and down their stomachs and backs. Some of them were freshly cut, others looked several days old, and nevertheless, all of them looked inches away from death.

A young girl was feeding an especially young puppy from a bottle, minding a rather large gash on its abdomen. When she noticed the king standing in the doorway, she curtseyed low and continued to feed the puppy, although in a far corner.

"Ah," Leck said. "They are doing far better than before. Look at them, they're in no pain at all."

Lucy could not help but give a soft smile at the thought. How fantastic it was that none of those sweet little puppies was in any pain, despite their cuts. Leck went on from here, to explain his intentions of the shelters, how much he truly hated to see anything abused or neglected, and that he wanted to help give the Monsean orphans a reason to work and live honestly. It was a rather noble mission, Lucy thought, as did Tumnus. Evidentially, Lady Jill also worked in the shelters, and trained the young orphans; currently Eustace was working as her assistant. Because they were already friends with Jill and Eustace, Lucy was given permission to come to the shelter at any time to visit them, but was given orders to stay out of the rooms where the animals were kept. Leck went on, after that, to tell Lucy of all of her rules and boundaries in her new home, as they headed back to the castle. It all seemed rather fair. Lucy was not to leave her chambers without Edmund, although he would have to leave her for his own training and practicing, but she could explore the castle as she saw fit, providing she would stick to the boundaries Edmund gave her, and did not leave without supervision. She could, mostly, do anything she wanted, provided she did not go into certain chambers and rooms. The king talked on and on about this and Lucy felt more and more at home in Monsea with the king's every word.

XXXXXXXXX

The first night spent in Monsea was uncomfortable, to say the least. Lucy could not sleep for the life of her. She tossed and turned on the downy mattress, as though it were made of lead. No matter what she tried to do to force herself to fall asleep, she had tried counting sheep (not talking Sheep of course), humming her favorite lullaby to herself, and even relaxing every muscle in her body and trying to space her mind. Nothing worked. Eventually, when the grandfather clock announced that it was three o'clock in the morning, she threw off her blankets, and walked out into the sitting room, where she was immediately greeted by the chilled air. It was so cold that Lucy almost considered going back into her bedchamber and get her dressing gown, and yet, it was too dark for her to honestly think that she could go back to her bed without bumping into anything.

She knew where the sofa was, and resolved to sit there, with her feet tucked underneath her, and perhaps make herself warmer somehow. However, when she went to sit down, she found herself sitting not on soft cushions, but sitting on a human being's stomach. There was the loud noise of the wind being knocked out of someone, accompanied by Edmund's groggy, half awake voice, "What d'you want, Susan?"

Lucy had already jumped off Edmund, and was sitting in one of the soft chairs to the side of the sofa, but now she blinked. "Who's Susan?" she asked.

Edmund seemed to jolt awake. "No one," he said all too hurriedly.

Hearing him strike a match, Lucy watched as a small fire appeared on the wick of a wax candle. In the dim light, however soft and weak it was, Edmund's Graceling eyes stood out even more than before. The green was almost glowing. "Is there something you needed, Princess?" he asked after a second, sounding rather annoyed with her.

"No," Lucy said, looking at her hands, "I couldn't sleep. I was going to try to sleep on the sofa, I didn't know that you were here, I'm sorry."

Looking somewhat baffled that a princess just apologized to him, Edmund mumbled, "It's all right, I suppose. If anything I would have just thought that this was some queer Narnian custom."

Lucy smiled at his jest. He had not seemed like the sort to openly jest, but she thought that she liked his sense of humor. "You may never know," she said. "I may just surprise you."

"You already have," he shrugged. "I wasn't expecting anyone to sit on me. If I knew you a little better, it might be flattering, but as I barely know you, I can't say anything like that."

She laughed lightly. "I already said I was sorry."

Edmund shrugged, and suddenly darkened. "Princess," he began.

"Lucy," she corrected. Tumnus and some Narnians occasionally called her 'your Highness,' but she preferred it when people called her by name. "Please call me Lucy."

"Why?"

"It's my name." Her response was so informal and obvious, that if he tried, Edmund would have been able to fool himself into thinking that she was an old friend of his, and that everything was going to be all right. Of course, it was not. There was nothing right about any of it.

He shook this off, and went on, "Lucy, then. May I ask you exactly how long you intend to stay in Monsea?"

Lucy blinked, with the sudden realization that she was not sure. Both the idea of staying for a week or so, and the idea of staying indefinitely seemed true. For the first time, in these rooms with the wonderful image of Aslan, she felt the fog coming into her brain. "I'm not sure. I thought I'm living here."

"Are you certain?" Edmund asked, deflating.

"Not really," Lucy admitted.

While Edmund nodded to this, refusing to give any information away, he was inwardly cursing her. Why did she have to be the _Narnian_ princess? Moreover, why did he feel so obligated to protect her? He felt a stark difference, he was rather used to having to put a blind eye to the visitors in the Monsean court, he had only been entirely aware of what went on for a year, but he couldn't do anything about any of it. He was trapped, and no matter how the injustice made his blood boil, he could not do anything about it and keep his life. He had promised Susan he would not do anything dangerous enough to get himself killed. That was before he knew about it. Peter and Susan knew about everything. They knew and they never told him a word of it. Of course, he never would have believed them if they did, but the thing that bothered Edmund was that both of them knew what they were getting into. Both of them had been playing the game that Edmund was, and they had done it brilliantly, until the day the king noticed Susan.

Edmund shook off these painful memories, and opened his mouth to say something to Lucy, only to find that she had fallen asleep against the arm of the chair. She shivered slightly. Edmund, without thinking, grabbed the blanket he had been using for himself, and he put it over her shoulders, wondering if he was coming to like her, although it was too soon to tell.

It was irrelevant as to whether or not Edmund liked the foreign princess. If he loathed her, he could resume his job for Leck as it was to be done, but if he started to like her, frankly, he was allowing himself to become venerable again. He would be preparing himself for that terrible feeling of having one's life torn apart into many pieces and walked upon by every one. However, whether nor not he liked Lucy, he would not put his guard down, and he would do all he could to protect her. He knew that he could not help her, he could not save her, and there was no way around it. That did not mean that he could not try.

He had had little time to memorize the game of knowing what really went on in the Monsean court, a secret game only played, and survived, by a select few, and one had no way to know who their allies were, which was the way Leck wanted it. When it was one against the man against who was, possibly, the most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms, it is required to be a quick learner, and to play not only with your strength, but also with every last drop of cunning you had in your body. The object of the game is not to win, but to survive.

Peter had forgotten the object of this game, and it had cost him his life. He had, in a single moment of utter rashness, came in at the wrong moment to save his wife, in attempt to stop it. In losing the illusion of stupid allegiance, both Peter and Susan had been killed; and Edmund had been hiding behind a pillar the whole time.

He would not allow history to repeat itself, not only because Lucy was the princess of the country that Peter dreamed of, and he already felt a sort of loyalty to Narnia as though it were a fictional Utopia, but also because it was unjust. He would not see Lucy torn to pieces. After all, while she seemed reasonably safe thus far, the entire circumstance could change entirely on a single whim of the monarch.

**A/N: Dun, dun, dun! Review, s'il vous plaît! **


	6. The Wedding Gown

Lucy's eyes fluttered open to the sound of rain hitting the windowpane. It took her a moment to remember where she was, and for the room to come into focus, because only a few moments ago, she had been in such a deep sleep that she could not remember what she was dreaming. She had dreamt about something, it had to do with a sword, a knight, and a hill, and it was probably the best dream of her life, but what exactly happened in it, she was forgetting with every second. It was like trying to keep water in your cupped hands, and fading fast.

She sat up on the mattress tucking her feet underneath her, and listened to the pouring rain, as it battered on the entire world. In her mind, she imagined what it would be like to be sitting outside, the aggressive pour of the water over her, as the earth sopped up the water greedily, and the rivers began to run high.

Eventually she rose from the comfortable mattress, the coolness of the room still startling after three weeks, and trudged over to the washroom. While she was washing her face, she thought she heard Edmund wake up and walk about the main room. Lucy smiled. Edmund had several characteristics that seemed to define him; one of them was his apparent inability to walk quietly in the morning. Once you came around to understand what his heavy footfalls sounded like, as they indeed sounded different by themselves, you were able to tell almost precisely, where he was in a room without looking.

Almost every little thing Lucy knew about Edmund was insignificant. Insignificant because, even after several weeks, she still barely knew him, he would only ever talk to her when they were alone, and for whatever reason that Lucy did not think of, Tumnus made sure that did not happen as long as he was awake. However, she had gathered little things; she knew that, when he was comfortable, he would lean in against the wall, rather than stand rigidly as most soldiers would. He seemed upset frequently, and he often times had a look in his eyes that looked like someone only just about to drown, she would imagine. It got more trivial than that; she had learned that he did not like hot breakfasts, or at least never had them, or that he knew how to sweep floors better than most boys did. It was a guessing game, sometimes frustrating, and sometimes not. The level of the frustration was heavily weighted on the situation. If Lucy was attempting conversation with her sullen guard, and she was left to chaotically decode his body language, yes, it was rather frustrating. Otherwise, he was never unkind, but it took great lengths to get him to say more than one or two words in response.

She finished washing, and walked over to the spare room attached to her own, thinking about what she would do that day. Having hoped to walk about outdoors and through the courtyards that day, she was left with no choice but to either revise her plans or simply hope for the rain to stop. While she did want the rain to stop, she tried to think of something else, at least for that morning.

She could always pay Eustace and Jill a visit, as she did quite often. However, she thought that that might not be the best idea, as Jill had mentioned previously that they were getting several new squirrels that day that needed to be attended to. They would probably be preoccupied for most of the morning. She figured she could always go on a walk indoors. It, somewhat, was against the whole point of taking walks, as she wanted fresh air and grass, but it was always an option. Undoubtedly she would have lessons, perhaps she could take them that morning and by the time they were over, the rain would have stopped. It was wishful thinking if nothing else.

Lucy opened the wardrobe at the end of the room slowly, slowly to trace the markings on the doors with her fingers. A few little mothballs fell out of it as the doors swung wide, and she caught the reflection of herself in the mirror on the door. As she looked through her dresses, she was filled with a little remorse that maids had cleared out the wardrobe for her. Initially, the wardrobe had been filled with fur coats and Lucy, being rather fond of the smell of fur, didn't mind if her own gowns were cramped and she, actually, hoped that they would get around to smelling like it. Unfortunately, they cleared away the fur coats to put in clothes for her.

The queer thing was that while the wardrobe was full, very few of the gowns were actually Lucy's when she first came to Monsea. The washerwoman seemed to continually lose her Narnian gowns, and the seamstress always seemed to have an extra gown on hand in Lucy's size. Edmund's eyes would narrow and he would scoff at the convenience, but he would not answer Lucy's questions about it.

The first time that happened, Lucy had been quietly studying at the dining table, while Tumnus made tea when the tapping came at the door. Tumnus made to answer it, and Edmund stood in the center of the room, in front of Lucy's chair to be safe. When the door swung open, the seamstress stood there, fidgety with a white and deep blue gown, her Graceling eyes somewhat glazed over. "I request the forgiveness," she said formally, "of Princess Lucy of Narnia. It seems as though one of her gowns was lost in the wash. I looked about my stores and I found one of the appropriate sizes in the Narnian style. I hope her highness doesn't mind."

Lucy had stepped forward at this point, heard Edmund skeptic snort, and looked over the gown, which the seamstress now held out so that she could look at the detail. It was recognizable as something made in the Narnian style, but almost crudely so. If Lucy had been more receptive of clothes, she would have noticed the queer mixture in the gown as well. It looked rather like the peasant's garb some lower class human Narnians would dress in, what with the long dark blue skirt matched that vest-like bodice. The skirt parted in the front, as it was meant to be worn above a long white chemise, which shown through one both the skirt was to be worn under the bodice. What made it so queer, however, was the material clearly was not supposed to be used on such clothing for peasants, the chemise was made of satin and the skirt and bodice made of velvet. This was, perhaps, what made it less Narnian-looking, as they tended not to use such materials for their clothing.

After the seamstress left with Tumnus showing her out, Edmund walked over to Lucy, "Well, that's a bit different," he mumbled, and shut up as the faun re-entered the room.

Lucy nodded, "Yes it is, isn't it? It looks lovely, though. And, I suppose, it looks Narnian enough from someone who hasn't been there before."

Risking it, taking up the gall he had left in him, Edmund had taken a step closer to Lucy, and whispered under his breath, "Don't you think that's a bit unexpected from a Graced seamstress?"

Blinking, confused for a reason she could not guess, Lucy had asked, "What do you mean?"

Edmund exhaled swiftly, all of the gall leaving him with that breath, and muttered, "Never mind."

Ever since then, the Lucy's own dresses and gowns were lost every once in a while, though sometimes two or three were lost, in the wash, and the seamstress always replaced them with these attempted replicas of Narnian garb that Edmund found so peculiar. However, the styles of the gowns did vary. Sometimes they lacked a bodice, and simply were a long skirt with sleeves meant to be worn over a chemise with laces on the chest to keep it together. One of the most diverse replacement dresses had the full dress in black, although it cut at the sleeves to reveal white flaring down the arms, tied down to the forearm with a black string. A white sash wrapped around the middle twice and tied in the front, even after, the sash reached to Lucy's mid thigh.

She considered wearing it, on that rainy day several weeks after her initial greeting to Monsea, but thought it was a mite too depressing-looking for a gray day like that one. Instead, she ended up with a salmon-colored skirt and bodice over one of her many chemises.

As Lucy went to close the wardrobe after she was dressed, she noticed something gleam at the very back of the wardrobe. It looked stunningly like milky moonlight. She pushed her own gowns aside to take a peek.

What at first looked like bright moonlight turned out to be the single most beautiful gown she had ever laid eyes on. It was a silvery white, bright and silky, with green velvet on the low collar and on the hems. When she took the gown out of the wardrobe, it seemed to become more brilliant in light, as though it was stained glass. She held it up to herself and when she looked in the mirror in the wardrobe's door she halfway wanted to laugh at the reflection.

She was dressed as a peasant since the beginning, but the pure radiance of the gown made anything and everything around it so unattractive that it was more laughable than anything else was; like a toad draped in pearls and diamonds. Once the initial shock worn over, Lucy came to an astounding conclusion. The dress did not deflate the beauty of everything in the room, the empty room looked just as it did before, and the other dresses in the wardrobe still looked the same. It was her that the gown deflated. She had never given very much thought to her looks, although she had been able to figure out that she was not very pretty by human's standards. It certainly was not a priority back at Cair Paravel, as she had other things she filled her mind with there. Now, looking at herself, a sudden burst of vain sadness erupted in her, and the only thing that could come to her mind was that she was ugly.

This lasted only for a moment, however, because she, just then, noticed Edmund standing in the doorway, with a dark look on his face, the look a boy gets when he thinks he's about to cry, she had seen it on her father before she left Narnia. Surprisingly enough, there was only one thought that came to Lucy's mind as she threw the gown, rather haphazardly, back into the wardrobe. "He's seen it before," she said inwardly.

Edmund had, indeed, seen that dress before. It had been Susan's on her wedding day, two years previous. Susan had been the girl who, even with Graceling eyes which were often thought to be unattractive, could still stop men in their tracks, whether they were Graced or not. Not even her beautiful wedding gown dimmed her features, in fact, the way her colors and face worked; it rather brought out some of the radiance in her face.

Edmund had, at first, been annoyed on that day. He had claimed that a girl of sixteen should not be getting married.

"Ed," Susan had said somewhat irritably, as this was only just before the ceremony, "I don't see how you can be so upset; you and Peter are the best of friends. That isn't the real reason you're upset, is it?"

"Yes, it is." Edmund had said much too quickly.

"No, it isn't."

"I'm fine!"

"Edmund!" Susan eventually said. "Must we do this now? We can go on arguing like irritated siblings later. In the meantime, can't you at least pretend to be happy for us? I want my family to see me get married, Ed. Can't I call you brother when I want it?"

Because Gracelings with a useful Grace never had so much as a living memory of their parents and siblings, unless on the rare occasion that they were born into nobility, they often made families themselves out of those they were around the most. By creating a family out of the others, they did not feel like the lepers they were often viewed as. Having a family created a sense of belonging. For a while, Edmund's family had been Susan and Peter, and then with sudden wedding plans in play, and Edmund had felt his family taken from him. He thought that he was going to be alone. Why would two newlyweds be in want of a stubborn thirteen-year-old Graceling like Edmund?

Inhaling, Edmund nodded. "All right, Su. I'm sorry for acting like such an ass. Let's make it Pax."

Smiling, Susan had said, "Pax it is, then."

It was not a very strange thing for a Graceling to marry someone Ungraced. Sometimes very poor people would give their useless Gracelings to someone poorer than they or to someone in desperate need or want of a spouse. The upper class, however, was a bit more uppity, and therefore it was more rare to find a union of this sort. However, it was not rare to the point where it was a spectacle. A wealthy man could marry a girl Graced with accounting skills and no one would bat an eyelash about it. This in mind, it was a fairly usual thing for a businesslike arrangement to be maid. However, what made the wedding of Susan and Peter unconventional was, in fact, their statuses. Susan, the Graced leader of Leck's archers, and Peter, the Ungraced son of a lord in the south. Susan was rarely feared, an archer was harmless enough away from her bow and arrows, and admired from afar because of her beauty, although almost no one without Graceling eyes would approach her. Peter was well liked, and respected. However, no one figured that their union would actually happen.

The ballroom, while Susan and Peter had both asked for integration of Gracelings and Ungraced, seemed to split down the middle. Graced fighters, who were all friends of Susan's, on one side, and the normal courtiers on the other. No matter what whisperings were going around about this, all tongues stopped wagging as soon as Susan stepped down the aisle, and with her in the dress, it seemed to project onto the guests, making them all the more beautiful as well. Perhaps, that was in reality her happiness in seeing Peter at the end of the aisle that made her more beautiful, but take with it what you will.

By the end of the ceremony, Edmund had found that most of his worries had been unnecessary to say the least. He was to move into Peter's chambers with Susan in the southern wing at the end of the week, as there was an extra bedchamber. He had never, necessarily, been a clingy person, and so he would easily give them their space. It seemed as though, for the first time, they were going to become a real family, and not simply the pretend sort they had been for years. Their family would be Peter and Susan, the happily married couple, and Edmund, who was like a brother to them both.

It had been an almost ideal set up for almost a year. It could have easily been ideal, if only Edmund had known what they did, and if only they had taken every opportunity. However, saying 'if only' was useless, and this was a fact, Edmund knew it. Every night, he would repeat the same sentence to himself, _If only they lived. _

"Are you all right?"

The question brought Edmund back from his past, as did the feeling of skin on his. He blinked at Lucy's hand, which gripped his wrist. "You have cold hands," he tried to redirect the subject.

"So do you," Lucy smiled softly at him, and then sobered completely. "May I ask you something?"

"Of course," Edmund said, somewhat uneasy at a princess asking his permission to ask him something. "You don't have to ask me."

"Who are Susan and Peter? You say their names rather often. When you're halfway asleep, or when you're caught in a memory. Like just now."

"They're my family," Edmund said, finding that having the chance to, for once, speak about them openly was like a weight lifted from his shoulders. Of course, he had always had to pretend that their deaths were more than a tragic accident. "Not really, of course, but they're the only family I've ever known. Susan was a bit too fond on acting like my mother, but that's not so bad when you look at things. And Peter—well, the few things I know about Narnia, I learned from Peter. He was obsessed. You can thank him for the image of the Lion on the wall. He's called Aslan, isn't he?"

"Yes!" Lucy said, excited that someone from the Seven Kingdoms knew about Aslan. Perhaps some people belonged to him after all. Especially, she thought, this Peter fellow. "I think I'd like to meet Peter sometime," she said, and immediately knew she had said something she should not have.

"He died," Edmund said, scratchily. "It was about a year ago. Both of them."

Lucy's eyes widened, and she sighed feverishly. "I am so sorry. I didn't mean to…I…I…I'm sorry."

"It's been a full year at least," Edmund said, trying to calm himself, as he felt his heart speeding. "I understand that they're gone, and that I can't get them back. I only wish that I," he paused. "I could have done something differently."

"What do you mean?"

He almost opened his mouth and told her. He almost sent her information that should have been kept a secret, however, just as he opened his mouth to, Tumnus came through the doorway and Edmund would not speak passed then.

**A/N: So, this chapter was a royal pain. I worked on five different versions of it, and this was the best one. Was the flow in this chapter a bit off, or is that just because I'm doing my final revisions at five in the morning? Hm…well, please review and let me know how I did! **


	7. Training Arena

**A/N: To people here who have read 'Graceling,' I'm sorry about the whole history bit, since it isn't exactly canon. I made it up as I went, since it doesn't go that far back in the actual novel. Also, if Lucy, in particular, seems wildly OOC for some of it, I know, it was intentional. I have a point to all of this, I promise! **

Lucy dipped her quill into the ink for the last time, and signed the letter away with a flourish to the 'y.' She blew on the wet ink to help it dry faster. As she read over her letter, she felt the gray fog swarm into her brain once more. There was something wrong with the letter, she could tell. It almost seemed like she was lying, but she was sure that everything was the truth; after all, if she ever had a question about larger things, things that made Edmund seem uncomfortable, she would keep them in her head until her weekly dinner with King Leck and Queen Ashen, and ask the king then. He always answered her questions, and although the fog seemed to worsen, she felt as though she finally understood everything. Biting down on her lip, she finally scanned her eyes over the letter for the third time.

"_Dear Mum and Father,_

_I know it's been a few months since you first sent me to live in Monsea, and I'm not sure why I haven't written yet. I'm sorry. I suppose that the snow just makes me think more of you, and makes me more homesick. How are both of you? I hope you're both doing well; if I found out that one of you has fallen sick during my months away, it would just be terrible. Is Narnia well? I haven't heard anything about Narnia, and the King tells me that that is probably a good thing; that you would be more likely to write to me during a troublesome time. He's right, I suppose; but I think I would like more news, particularly good news, from my family and friends. _

_While I'm on the subject of friends, I think you might be happy to know, that I've made several friends in Monsea. The closest to me being the Gracelings Lady Jill and Eustace. Jill is busy most of the time, from her work in King Leck's animal shelters, but Eustace stops by my chambers most of the time, I think, because he doesn't like being around Jill when she's working. He can be a bit posh at times, and he does have a queer preoccupation with insects and big words, but he's still a good friend. So is Jill. She invites me on horseback rides often, and Tumnus has just allowed me to accept them. Before either of you get nervous because I'm on horses, Jill's Grace can keep animals calm, so there isn't much of a chance that I'll fall off. _

_People often invite me to do things that I can't do. Ice-skating, snowball fights, sleigh rides, or indoors cricket. I don't like keeping my sickness a secret. It feels a lot like lying, to be honest. The Monsean court and the Graced living in the castle are my friends. Why shouldn't they know? But, still. Something makes me feel like I shouldn't. I'm so confused. I get confused quite a bit here, actually; sometimes I think it's because I'm so far away from the east—and Aslan's country, or that because people never talk about Aslan here, but then I remember that Aslan isn't exclusive to Narnia, and that it shouldn't matter how far away I am from the Lion. How I forgot that at all in the first place, well, it scares me a little. _

_I'm forgetting things, too; forgetting and remembering again. Sometimes I think that my journey west had something to with my aunt, but it can't be; she's in Lienid. King Leck tells me that it's normal for a girl getting adjusted to her new home to have these sorts of thoughts, but then little remarks here and there, and little memories almost make me doubt the king, strange as that seems. But, something that I can never understand is why I'm in my new home. I'm sorry for forgetting, but could you, perhaps, tell me again? _

_All of my love, your daughter_

_Lucy _

She blinked; something still did not seem right. Then she realized that she had omitted Edmund completely. This was especially strange, as he was sitting right in front of her. She didn't have the time to consider this, however, because her time for writing was over, and Tumnus requested that they look at maps for a bit of Monsean history.

It had been a freezing day, and although Lucy had been invited ice-skating by Bitterblue, she was, at first, cooped up indoors, forced to sit through yet another garbled history lesson. Edmund rolled his eyes at some of the information that was less than accurate, but mostly kept his eyes down on his sword, as he polished it out of boredom.

"What was the year the Monsean borders were set?" Tumnus asked.

Lucy didn't hear him, as she was too busy staring at the snowflakes dance downward in mad flurries. The snow fell melodiously from the gray sky, and to be frank, she wanted nothing more than to put on a warm scarf and dash out into the feathery snow. "Oh? What was that?"

"The year the Monsean border was set."

"1545?" Lucy asked slowly, still unsure of the answer.

"No, it was 953," Tumnus said, he looked down at the book and sighed. "And which king established the original form of Monsean guard, the one that integrated both Graced and Ungraced? And which king took that away?"

"Well," Lucy thought, "King Baldred established the integrated guard, and, let's see, the separated guard was made about a century ago, so…."

Edmund was a little bored with this, and finally did something rather uncharacteristic of him; he spoke up in front of the faun. "Erm, if I may, Tumnus. Don't you think that we've had a bit much of history? I haven't even been forced to learn anything, and I have to admit my head hurts. Why don't we go on a walk, or something?"

Tumnus seemed to honestly consider for a moment, and then he mulled out, "Won't there be ice on the paths? It will be too slippery for Lucy."

"Well, then," Edmund offered. "I could take Lucy to the training arena. She could watch and see how the Graced armies are trained…"

"Absolutely not!" Tumnus gasped, with a hand on his heart.

"Great skies, come on, Tumnus," Edmund said, a little more than annoyed, which gave him the audacity to speak out. "You can't lie to me and say that you're not trying to teach her about the way the Monsean armies work. I sit here every day and listen to you talk about it."

Tumnus didn't look up from the book on his furry legs. "That doesn't mean she has to go and watched a Graced fight! Goodness, I don't even want to know what that's like."

"I watch jousts all the time in Narnia," Lucy put in, thinking that getting out of her chambers for a little while, and away from lessons might do her a little good.

"That is true," Tumnus began. "However, this would be a world away from what you're used to, Lucy. In fact I—"

"Isn't that the point, though?" Edmund said, feeling himself gain the upper hand. "To learn new things? Don't you think she would learn so much more from actually watching it herself? Besides, it's not any more violent than what she's already seen; none of us ever get hurt; we only go until someone yields."

Tumnus, however, was adamant. "What if there was an accident?"

"Then we'll have more to worry about than that." Edmund said, a pale look on his face, before he shook off the initial thought, one with scarlet blood and the screams of innocent people, and continued. "We're trained not to make mistakes, and making one in the area that you're Graced in, well, it's unlikely."

"I think I'd like to go," Lucy said. "If you don't mind, Tumnus. I'll be careful, I promise!"

Tumnus looked down towards his hooves, and, taking out a certain work of knitting he only ever bothered to when he was nervous, and said, "Very well. So long as you stay back when you watch and stay out of harm's way. Do you promise?"

"Of course," Lucy said, smiling, jumping up from her place on the sofa.

Edmund stood slower, sliding his sword into its sheath. "It's my job to make sure she's safe," he mumbled. "And I'll keep an eye on her."

"For some reason," Tumnus said inwardly, "that's not extremely reassuring."

The arena was located out of the castle, on the side opposite the animal shelter. However, there was a way to get to the arena without having to step outside once, but it was a rather lengthy route. As Tumnus did not want Lucy outside, for fear of her slipping on the ice, she and her guard had no choice but to take the long route. Lucy and Edmund walked at a brisk pace, stopping once with bows and curtseys when Queen Ashen and Princess Bitterblue walked by, and only slowing for courtiers of higher importance. Edmund couldn't help but wonder if half of those courtiers were even aware that Lucy was a princess. He knew some of them were, by their nods and mutters of "Princess," as they walked by. However, it seemed to him that by the mystery of her clothing's disappearance, she was blending more and more in rather like a servant at the castle without anything to do, rather than a visiting princess. Sometimes, he thought, it would be much simpler if she weren't a princess, though he didn't know why, sometimes he almost forgot, himself.

They walked down hallways and through corridors; down staircases and up steps, it took a great while, and for a moment, Lucy felt as a snowflake would, swirling down to her ultimate destination, but not having a clue how to get there. As least she had Edmund; indeed, she was very thankful for him. He might have been sullen, but he was a companion around her age, a novelty she had never had and was extremely thankful that she had it in her new home.

They came up to a dark staircase made entirely of large stones, fitted together so not even a tiny speck of sunlight could reach though. As they began to walk downward, Lucy began to feel queer. The staircase was wide and steep, and long. It took her a few minutes to realize that it was actual spiraling gradually downward, and narrowing as it went. More than once, she almost lost her balance because of the queer way it was designed, and the way the torches on the wall danced on the stairs was enough to make anyone dizzy. Every time her equilibrium was off, even at its slightest, Edmund was always there, just behind her, with his hands on her waist to keep her on her feet. Whenever he caught her, she craned her neck backwards and grinned at him; he returned the smile, and for a while longer, Lucy felt dizzy, but not because of the stairs.

At the foot of the stairs, it was too dark to see much, as there were only a few torches spread out every meter or so, but Edmund led Lucy through a long hall, all the while explaining that they were no longer under Leck's castle; as they were actually underneath the walk leading to the training arena. The path they were using was originally meant as extra training, and could be used as a getaway if ever the soldiers needed to get their king out of the castle and to some place safer. "In fact," Edmund said, "I think this path goes so far as the southernmost part of Monport."

Lucy nodded, and continued following Edmund, until they reached another staircase, much like the last one, except they were heading upwards. They climbed it together, and once more, Lucy's balance threw off a few times, and once more, Edmund was always there to catch her. By the third time this happened, Edmund jested, "If I'm not mistaken, I'd say you're doing that on purpose."

Smiling, Lucy said, meaning to jest back, "Would you like me to start doing this on purpose?"

Perhaps it was because of the insufficient light, Lucy could have sworn she saw Edmund wink at her with his amber eye when he said, "I can't say I'd object."

By the time they reached the arena, Lucy was used to the varied lights on the stairs, and it no longer bothered her. Her eyes were adjusted to the ill lighting, which made the arena difficult to adjust to, with its large windows and sunlight streaking in from everywhere. She blinked for almost a solid minute, before the room came into focus, and once it did, she had to suppress a gasp. While the walls were a pasty white, stained with something that looked uncomfortably crimson, and the floor was simply packed down dirt, it was enormous. There were three circles, two that were a medium size, and one that was large enough to fit an entire giant family in it if they were lying down. There was a half a wall around the edges, with crude wooden benches all around, and a golden throne at the head of the room, undoubtedly for Leck, if he so decided to come and watch.

Another surprise was the amount of people there, they were almost all Graced, and those who weren't, were covered with armor all around. None of them were fighting, but putting out shelves of spears and swords to get ready for the fighting. There must have been about a hundred Gracelings there, all ranging from ages as fragile as six to the elderly people who one would not suppose had the ability to even stand up straight.

"Things will get more organized in a minute or two," Edmund said, "time for the Ungraced army to practice just got out, so they're getting ready."

Lucy nodded. "Will you be fighting?"

"Only if someone wants to," Edmund grimaced. "I don't really like to instigate if I don't have to."

Suddenly, from the fray of Gracelings, came a distinct voice. "Edmund! Have you finally figured out that if you don't practice you won't get any better?"

"You're hilarious," Edmund yelled to the voice, and out of the cluster, came a boy about Lucy's age, with sandy blonde hair, and sparkling eyes, one being bright orange and the other being a cheerful-looking yellow. He seemed mischievous and energetic; Lucy liked him right away.

"Who's this?" The boy asked, nudging his head towards Lucy.

"She's Princess Lucy, of Narnia," Edmund said. "And the reason I haven't been able to come. I think we both know that I could still whip you."

"Well, sir," the boy said, smiling impishly. "Prepare to eat your words. One round broadsword and the other with our fists. What do you say?"

Edmund turned to Lucy. "Do you mind?"

Shaking her head, Lucy said, "No. I'll watch."

As Edmund turned, to walk with his friend to the arena, the boy's impish voice mimicked him, "_Do you mind? _Well, aren't you skinned?"

"Shut up, or we'll see you skinned," Edmund threatened, semi-jokingly, and the two boys took the floor.

By now, several groups of Gracelings were fighting on their own, a few groups in each circle, which seemed to be blocked off mentally for each of the fighters. Lucy was left incredulous watching the two boys go at it, much more so when she attempted to watch the other groups of fighters. It was incredible.

Lucy had never seen anything even close to the amount of energy and at the velocity that Edmund and his opponent were moving. The harsh sound of metal colliding slashed throughout the room, at irregular intervals, through everyone. It was chaos, but nevertheless, there was a queer energy moving throughout the room. Every single person out there fighting was in their element, it was like their own personal paradise, and the high they were in radiated through the entire arena, fueling the rest of the fighters and charging those who were not.

It was almost like a dance, Lucy thought, the way Edmund and his opponent's swords moved, and they dodged each other. Everything was projected with such ferocity, if it weren't for the jovial looks on their faces, Lucy would have been genuinely worried that one of them would end up dead. Indeed, although it looked dangerous, and unreal, the looks in their eyes were those of young boys wrestling for the fun of it, and not those of people in such a terrifying fight. Everything was remotely familiar, in terms of what they were doing with their swords, but it was as though it was sped up a hundred times, without any sign of stopping. Then, all of a sudden, Edmund swung and knocked the sword out of the boy's hand, and for but a moment, he had the look of victory on his face.

The boy opened his mouth, as if to yield, but then, in a moment, his fist swung up and boxed Edmund square on the nose. He dropped his sword, and began swinging his fists. It had been rather obvious in watching earlier that sword fighting was specifically in Edmund's Grace, and it was obvious now that boxing was specific to the other boy's Grace; they were both incredible in both areas of fighting, but it was obvious that one was better than the other in their own respective areas. Even though Edmund said that no one got hurt, he did manage to get a rather heavy nosebleed before he swung back at his opponent.

This fight was rather unprofessional-looking, especially in comparison to the swords, but just as intense and incredible. Lucy never blinked, for fear that if she did, she would miss everything. It seemed apt, as well, for in the next second, after two more aims at punches on both sides that mixed, Edmund was flat on his back with his opponent over him. "All right, all right!" he shouted. "I yield!"

"There we go," his opponent said, grinning, "Now, who's skinned?"

"Shut up!" Edmund called, smiling, as his opponent seemed to suddenly remember something, and dash out of the arena.

Lucy frowned as Edmund came nearer to her, and she realized that he was still walking through his nosebleed, holding the collar of his tunic up at his nostrils. When he sat down next to her, she stood in front of him and looked at him. "Oh no," she said, "that looks like it hurts terribly."

Edmund could only grunt in response, so Lucy dug through her purse and took out a white handkerchief. "Here," she said, placing it in his hands. "You need it more than I do. Here, pinch the bridge of your nose and lean forward. It's supposed to help it clot."

"Do you get a lot of nosebleeds?" Edmund asked through the hankie.

Shaking her head, Lucy said, "Only once. But I thought it would last forever."

Seeing a similar look on Lucy's face that was often etched on his own, a look of secrets that were too painful to remember, Edmund allowed the subject to drop. For the next twenty minutes or so, while Edmund's nose finished bleeding, the duo watched the other groups of Gracelings spar while Edmund explained things, evidentially only two of the soldier's from Leck's personal guard went to training at any given time, as the rest of them were needed to protect their king. The major thing that Lucy learned, however, was that no two people had the same Grace. There were some people who had similar Graces, but no two were exactly alike.

"What's your Grace, Edmund? Specifically, I mean." Lucy asked, after a while.

"Me? Swordplay. Particularly broadsword, backsword, and rapier. There's something in the mix about defense, though. I'm better when I'm going for defense than offense." Edmund said monotonously as if he had been asked that question too many times.

They went on talking, and after this encounter, Lucy discovered something. Edmund seemed to have a dislike for Graces. He always had a sort of tone to him that suggested a dislike, though Lucy couldn't see why; she knew it was terrible the way Gracelings were often times treated, however, she couldn't see how a Graceling boy could have the sort of antipathy for Graces that Edmund had; it was not for the way they were treated that Edmund seemed to dislike; it was the Graces themselves. She couldn't help but wonder why.

In a moment, the large double doors in the front of the arena swung open, inviting flurries of snow and an awkward-looking bundle of a boy inside. "Oh no," Edmund said, at the sight of the boy. "What is Eustace doing in here?"

"What's wrong with Eustace?" Lucy asked, feeling odd for having to take the defense for one friend against another.

"You'll see," Edmund muttered.

The fact of the matter was that Eustace was sent to the arena because Jill needed a new bag of oats for one of the horses in the shelter, and in the back of the arena, there was a storage room for things that were declared unimportant, oats being one of these things. However, the moment he was recognizable, the whole lot of Gracelings got rather cruel smirks on their faces, and called out in turn, "Oh, look here, it's Scrubb!"

"Fancy another go, Scrubb?" One particularly stupid-looking Graceling stopped the boy in his tracks with his index finger, showing off his strength Grace.

"Not particularly," Eustace said through his teeth as he tried to move forward, only to be circled around more people, all of them chanting cruel, mocking things.

Lucy spun around to look at Edmund. "What are they doing to him? Why are they calling him Scrubb?"

"It's a sort of…nickname," Edmund said, after thinking for a second.

"A nickname?" Lucy echoed. "Well, I don't think he deserves it."

Almost chuckling, Edmund said, "There was a time when he almost did. But, you see, it's what the other people call Gracelings before you find out what their Graces are. Scrubbs. Well all were at one point, but it's become somewhat synonymous for Eustace. I think he might be the oldest person in history who hasn't had his Grace reveal itself."

Not seeing what a strange occurrence it would be, Lucy said, "Well, that's no reason for them to treat him so horridly! We have to do something to help him!"

"And what do you suggest, Princess?" Edmund said, "There's about a hundred of them, and one of me. Some of them can read minds; some of them have amazing speeds; some of them can ground any of your Minotaurs into a pulp in ten seconds. I can do fancy things with a sword. It doesn't necessarily add up, now does it?"

By now, Eustace had escaped into the back room, and had come out, bumbling with a rather large sack of oats. An oily voice sounded from out of the group of cackling Gracelings. "Well, well, if it isn't Scrubb."

"Oh, no." Edmund muttered, hearing the voice. "Not _him." _

Lucy didn't have time to ask who "he" was, because in a moment, she saw a tall, dark man come out of the circle. He had a rather pointed beard and a red eye accompanied by a filmy white; to say she didn't like him would be an understatement.

"Rabadash," Eustace said, exchanging the weight of the sack of oats in his hand. "What do you want?"

"Oh, so rude." Rabadash sneered. "This should teach you to mind your manners!"

Suddenly, a sword whizzed through the air, and landed right in Eustace's sack, spilling out oats by the second. Eustace just stared at the sack, turning white.

"Run!" Rabadash said, as though instigating some sort of sadistic game, and Eustace, not knowing what else to do, ran for the door.

More swords whizzed through the air, narrowly missing the poor boy, sentenced to run.

"I've had enough of this," Edmund growled to himself, and ran to the center of the circle where Rabadash stood, and Lucy ran too, but towards Eustace, to help her friend stand again.

Yanking the newest sword out of Rabadash's hand, Edmund threw it to the ground. "That's enough," he said threateningly.

"Excuse me?" Rabadash's tone lowered.

Edmund had to lift himself onto the balls of his feet, and said, "You've had your _fun,_ my friend."

Rabadash didn't sense the sarcasm dripping from Edmund's statement, because his reply was dense as anything. "Do I know you?" he asked.

"Not directly," Edmund said, his voice still low.

"Then why did you call me 'friend?'"

"Sorry, my mistake," Edmund growled, his mind on fire, fury growing.

"Yes, it was," Rabadash began, only to be cut off by Edmund.

"I could never be friend's with someone who could be such an ass."

"Why, you insolent—" The statement never was finished, because in a second, swords were drawn, and there was a full out brawl in front of them.

If the organized fight had had intensity, there would be no words to describe this fight. It was whatever was practiced ten times the power. The ominous truth hung in the air like a poison, they were fighting until it was over, which could mean one of them seriously injured or dead.

"Edmund! Stop!" Lucy cried out from the sidelines, but her pleading fell onto deaf ears. She flashed her eyes to the entrance hall, towards the way she and Edmund had come in, and saw the familiar eye-patched figure of King Leck in the shadows. Making sure Eustace was all right, she made a mad dash for the other side of the arena. "Your Majesty!" she cried. "Please stop this!"

"Why, Princess," Leck said smoothly, "I can't see what it is you're asking me to stop."

Lucy blinked. What was it she had come over here so urgently for? She looked around the room, and saw Edmund fighting in bloodlust, and suddenly she remembered. "That! Edmund and Rabadash, they aren't practicing, someone's really going to end up hurt!"

"Oh, my." Leck said. "This certainly is a problem. Of course I shall stop it, in but a moment. No harm will come to your friend in a moment, don't worry. In fact, I believe that Edmund would be able to win this in that moment, don't you?"

"Of course," Lucy said, a new sense of trust in Edmund's ability fresh in her brain. Of course Edmund would be all right; he was Graced in swordplay after all. King Leck wouldn't even have to stop this, Edmund would be able to take care of it, she was sure about it.

"How are you enjoying Monsea?" Leck said, turning Lucy away from the fight. "Is everything still to your liking?"

Nodding, Lucy said, "Yes, thank you. I did write a letter to my parents, and I was wondering if I could put it in the post some time." Even as she spoke, she couldn't help but think there was something strange going on, like there was something else to be concerned with.

"Of course you may. I do have a question for _you_, however. How old are you, Lucy?" Leck said, his single eye scanning her over.

"Fourteen," Lucy said slowly, unsure what had sparked the queer question.

"Oh, my goodness." Leck said. "Isn't fifteen coming-of-age in Narnia? You won't be wanting to go back for a visit for this festivity, will you? You would miss your home too dearly to go as far away as Narnia for even a holiday, won't you?"

Wrinkling her eyebrow, not because of the strangeness of the questions, but because the thought of her wanting to leave Monsea for a holiday had suddenly become nothing short of devastating. "Yes, it is," she said, "and of course I won't! Your Majesty, your home is my home. I _would _miss Leck City too terribly if I left, and I'm certain I'd feel simply sick even upon entering Cair Paravel."

The king nodded, "But of course this is, after all, what you want, dear Lucy. Now, shall we stop this brawl?"

Lucy had to blink, she had momentarily forgotten completely about the brawl, and as she turned, she realized that King Leck was right. It was over already. Edmund was standing in front of them, panting with a queer look in his eyes that looked almost like heartbreak or fear, mixed in. Behind him, Rabadash was squirming, pinned onto the wall, shouting out curses and swearing audibly.

"Your Majesty," Edmund panted, the look in his eyes turning almost murderous as they faced the ground so that no one could see.

"Stand, Edmund," Leck said. "Didn't I assign you to look after the princess? Why were you off fighting? Wouldn't you say it's a rather idiotic thing to do?"

"Of course," Edmund said, with eloquence only from practice. "You are right, your Majesty. I was defending a friend of the princess's, and it had turned into a fight. I apologize."

"Very well," Leck said, and turned to leave. Just before he did so, he faced Lucy once more. "I will have dinner with your Master Tumnus tonight alone. Be sure the message reaches him."

"Of course," Lucy said, waving the king away, thinking all the while what a friendly soul he was. This was before she turned to Edmund, and saw the look on her guard's face. It was somewhere between fear, heartbreak, and blind fury; what scared her the most however, was that the fury looked to be directed towards her.

XXXXXXXX

"Can't you just tell me what I did wrong?" Lucy asked that night, once Tumnus had left the room for his dinner with the king. Edmund had been quiet, sullen, and even more off than he usually did.

"_You_ didn't do anything," Edmund mumbled in a tone that would suggest otherwise.

Lucy was genuinely confused. Not even an hour ago, she had been friends with Edmund, they had been talking, and she had been enjoying herself, but then, ever since he returned from fighting that frightful Rabadash, he had been in a terrible mood. Perhaps that was it, fighting for real put him into a bad mood.

They ate dinner quietly, without even the friendly company of one other person to alleviate the terrible feeling that hung in the air. Edmund seemed to check the clock every five minutes or so, and look at the door, as if expecting something to come barging through.

It couldn't exactly be declared a fun evening, Lucy thought, as she slipped her nightshift over her head. Perhaps, she thought optimistically, it might be blown over when I wake up. This did not, however, seem like a very likely situation, but it did not stop her from thinking about it nonetheless.

Because she was so confused about her guard for the moment, you can imagine her surprise when he appeared in her door. He didn't seem in the mood for conversation, and yet he spoke. "Don't you find it odd that Master Tumnus isn't back from dinner yet?"

Shaking her head and lowering her brow, Lucy said, "Not really; Tumnus sometimes is late from dinner parties usually, he likes to talk, and besides, I'm sure he's talking about something important with King Leck."

Edmund cringed at the name, and all of a sudden, something that had been kept up inside, boiling and bubbling, exploded out of him. "Why are you like this? Even after everything you saw today? You still just have this unexplainable want to be near Gracelings! Why? Can't you see we're dangerous? There is absolutely nothing stopping any of us from sneaking up behind you and snapping your neck—except for, maybe, Leck's words. Which will probably keep you safe for a while. Are you stupid or something?"

Lucy, not seeing the connection in any of this, simply blinked. "Just because something might be dangerous doesn't mean I'm going to stay away from it. I mean, even with Aslan," she said, feeling a bit stronger, as though she didn't realize how thick set the gray fog in her brain had become until the gold fought some of it off. "He isn't a tame Lion, there's nothing to stop him from eating anyone who comes to him. But, still."

"I'm not talking about Lions!" Edmund said, "Great skies! You really can't understand this, can you? You're absolutely batty. Why can't I make you understand that you should try and keep yourself away from Gracelings, not go running off to help them simply because they're being teased!"

Fitting her arms tightly around her chest, Lucy muttered. "You wanted to help Eustace, too. He's our friend."

Groaning, Edmund had decided for the moment to completely give in to impulse. He, at what seemed like the speed of sound, grabbed Lucy's wrist, and spun her around so that her back was facing her bed. With one fluid moment, he lunged and sat on her stomach, pressing her against the mattress. One of her arms was pinned underneath her, the other was lying lamely above her, with Edmund's hand keeping her down.

"Now think about this," Edmund said, his voice low. "I'm not trying to hurt you. I wasn't even trying hard to do anything—I was using about the same strength you use to pick up one of your books. My Grace has little to nothing to do with strength. But, in a fight, I can pin someone ten times stronger than me down—you aren't stronger than me by a long shot. Think about this, Lucy, I'm begging you," he wasn't been sarcastic, he truly looked as though he were pleading with her. "Just think about all of this. We're dangerous, don't you see?"

Lucy swallowed. It had, strictly speaking, knocked the wind out of her. She heard exactly where Edmund was coming from, and yet, somehow, she couldn't bring herself to agree with him. "Edmund, I—I'm perfectly terrified right now. But just because something—or someone is different doesn't mean that I have to be afraid of them."

Here, Edmund scoffed. "What would you know about being different?"

"You might be surprised." Lucy muttered.

Edmund raised his brow, and was about to inquire about what she meant, when a scream emitted from the doorway, an astonished horrified scream.

"Goodness gracious me!" Tumnus, who had only just come back from his supper with Leck, screamed. "Unhand her!"

Edmund backed off more quickly than he had leaped onto her, as the faun was now raising his umbrella threateningly to him. He held his hands, palms out, to show the faun he meant no offense, and sprinted out of the room as fast as he could.

"My goodness, Lucy," Tumnus said, coming tentatively to his princess, but speaking in such a rapid manner, he was almost hyperventilating. "Are you—did he—what has happened?"

"I'm fine," Lucy mumbled softly, more inside herself than anywhere else, trying to calm the extra tremor inside of her heart and stomach.

**A/N: Please review! **


	8. Matters of the Mind

Whatever had possessed Lucy to want to go for a horseback ride with Jill to watch the sunrise that morning had fled fast. It was true that she enjoyed winter, and the Monsean season was quite mild in comparison to the Narnian winters, however, it was still far too cold to be riding through snow-covered fields before the golden sun peaked out from the horizon to shed some warmth onto the white world. While she waited for this, she had to make do with her woolen cloak, boots lined with fur, and a rather stocky-looking winter gown.

She had been shocked that she was allowed to go, to sit astride a horse at an hour that few people were awake and even less to their full consciousness. However, Tumnus had been somewhat hell-bent on keeping Lucy away from her guard in the last few days. In fact, he had told Lucy while she was away, that he would be attempting to get an audience with King Leck, with all intentions of getting a new guard. This seemed terribly drastic. Edmund hadn't been trying to hurt her, after all. Whenever Lucy found herself looking back on the night Edmund had shown her a simple example of what a Graceling could do, she had begun to feel something oddly similar to electricity whenever her guard sat near her.

Nevertheless, Edmund was still back at the castle, and Lucy and Jill had taken a shortened route out of Leck City, to the fields, in an attempt to get to a rather large hill, or perhaps it was a very small mountain. Once they reached the peak of this hill or mountain, they would watch the sun rise against the snow. It was easily below freezing, and a miracle that the water packed away for the two did not freeze in its flask. The stars were out, shining silver against ebony, turning murky from the clouds. Lucy could not help but feel uneasily about this; it was as though the sky, and the clouds, were mocking her brain, and the constant fog manifested inside of it.

The moon seemed to make up for it, though, as it shined almost as brightly as the sun, reflecting off the crunching snow, looking as though diamonds and other gems just sat on the ground for whomsoever to come along and pluck their fortune and comfort off of the ground.

Neither girl talked to the other for most of the nighttime ride. Lucy's teeth chattered, and she occasionally risked to raise one fist to breathe on it as the other held the reins. Meanwhile, Jill mumbled to her own steed, perhaps preparing it for the somewhat steep uphill he would have to experience before long.

When they did speak, it was for a momentary inquiry about Eustace. "How is he?" Lucy had asked, thinking sadly of the poor treatment the boy had experienced in the training room.

"He's all right," Jill said. "He always takes a while to come back to himself whenever things like that happen, but he can't help it, you know."

Lucy nodded. "I know. It won't be long before his Grace shows itself," she said. "I'm sure."

Here, Jill, shockingly, sighed. "Can I tell you something?" she asked. "Something that has to stay between us?"

Nodding again, Lucy promised her friend nothing would pass through her lips about whatever the Graceling was about to speak.

"I think I might be upset when Eustace's Grace does decide to show up," Jill said quickly, as though she knew this was an exceedingly selfish thought. "I'm used to him being with me, and well, once his Grace shows up, he won't have time anymore. Or, even what's worse, if they send him home because of it. Thirteen years they've kept him, if they decided to send him home now…"

Lucy smiled warmly at her friend. "I'm sure his Grace isn't going to send him home. And I'm sure Eustace will still be friendly towards you, even after it presents itself."

"I hope so," Jill said, and in that moment, she and Lucy shared a secret smile. A smile that hinted with everything in the world; it was something that only girls could understand. In a look, they had had a quiet conversation, during which Jill explained in one look the precise reasons she liked it that Eustace was always on hand, and able to be with her, no matter what.

By now, the horses had reached the top of the hill. Jill jumped down, her steed more than accommodating for her, and Lucy carefully dismounted, being sure to have some traction on the crystallized snow with her boots before she left the saddle entirely.

After fixing the horses with blankets over their backs, the girls set to work to make a little fire. They had packed dry wood in a saddlebag, as well as some dried meats and vegetables for breakfast. After arranging the firewood into an arrangement that would burn, they set the wood on fire using a charred cloth and some flint. It took a while, but suddenly a cheerful orange glow enveloped around them. Jill's eyes matched the fire, and they danced around excitedly as the two girls made small talk, sitting on an extra blanket.

Before long, the sun came. It, at first, was invisible, the orange orb hiding underneath the mountains, but giving its taunting preview by dying the sky pink. Then, as though it had somewhere important to be, the sun rose up from the earth at a rather visible pace. It looked like something born of the mountains, from the way it peaked off the snowcaps. It rose higher and higher in the sky, lightening the once-deep pink colors, until they became a familiar blue color, and just like that, sunrise was gone, and the sun stood in its position in the sky.

"Oh," Lucy said, having never seen sunrise from a mountainous terrain before. "That was beautiful." She shivered slightly. "Though, I do wish Edmund had been allowed to come along."

"Oh, bother him being allowed or not," said Jill in a rather final manner.

Lucy lowered her brow to that, but went on thinking, still staring as the snow twinkled in the early morning sun. Everything had changed again, she thought. Once again, the dynamics were switched on her, and she was left confused. Her mentioning of Edmund, who she had earlier thought was beginning to be her friend, only made her remember once more the stony silence that often greeted her in her chambers. Sometimes it felt even colder inside that room, with its roaring fire, than it did out in the middle of Monsea, in the winter, in the earliest hours of morning.

"I can't understand it," Lucy said finally, after a moment, thinking aloud more than anything else.

"Understand what?" Jill asked, her mismatched eyes holding confusion.

"Well," Lucy mulled, slowly, unsure of what she was even saying, "in the last few days, things have just changed so much. Edmund doesn't talk to me, even when we're alone, anymore. Well, we aren't alone that often anymore, either—it seems like both Tumnus and Edmund make sure that we aren't. I don't know why it's bothering me so much."

Jill, out of absolutely nowhere, suddenly began to giggle uncontrollably. Now, if having friends her own age was strange in Lucy's life, having friends of her own gender was at least doubly as strange. More to the point, while Lucy had several girlish tendencies, none of them had the slightest thing to do with giggling. To be perfectly honest, she found it a somewhat annoying habit, even though Jill was rather prone to it.

"What's so funny?" she asked, lowering a brow at her friend.

Sighing back her giggles, Jill spoke, "I'm fairly sure that he's avoiding you for a reason. From what he's told Eustace, it seems that he's developed a bit of affection for you—affection might be putting it lightly, though. Really, I'm surprised you didn't notice. Then again, he does to a good job at hiding his feelings, doesn't he?"

"He never talks to me," Lucy said, not trying to rationalize, really, but out of confusion. This little fact bothered her, and the mere idea of his affections made her chest feel tight, but there was still the overt confusion that she did not know what to do with. If Jill was right, she couldn't help but wonder, would it change anything? She got around to thinking that, perhaps, it would be better if Edmund would just come to talk to her, even if he was his same sullen self.

"Even if he never talks to you," Jill said, "he still talks of you. Maybe you caught his eye, or he found something new about you that charmed him."

In actuality, it was both of the things that Jill had previously listed leading to Edmund's new queer behavior, accompanied by other things. Other than his memories smearing the once-empty canvas of his life with blood, he did have the faun's decided hatred and distrust fueling this behavior, but strangely enough, these things were not what vexed him when he caught Lucy's eyes. What was vexing him, however, was that he was noticing new things about her all the time.

It had started shortly after he sat on her diaphragm out of frustration. He had been lying on the sofa that night, and suddenly a queer, and completely out of place, thought came to mind. He had never realized exactly how striking Ungraced eyes could be; especially when they were an unusual shade of dark blue. They had been startled, and therefore, opened wider than what was natural, and he had had the opportunity to make out his own reflection in her irises as he had hovered over her. Somehow, the thought of this made him thankful that he was alone, and covered with blankets; this was he was mostly sheltered from any stray eyes that could spy the physical effect the thought had on him—predominately adding color to his cheeks.

After this, he noticed more and more things about the Narnian princess. He noticed the way she nonchalantly bit her lip when she was studying; he noticed the knit look she got on her face when Tumnus got overzealous about her safety. He even noticed the resting look that charmed her face when she was completely enveloped inside of a book; with her mouth lamely open, her eyes scanning every line, with slight twitches to the side of her lips on twists and turns in whatever story she was reading at the time. Edmund was not merely preoccupied with her face or mannerisms, but whenever he accidentally found his eyes wandering down her neck or any place otherwise, he shut the thoughts down. He was her guard; he was supposed to protect her. This did not entail noticing things about her that wouldn't look particularly attractive on paper. Even though he did notice these things, reader, please do not think ill of him, for he would never do anything close to where testosterone occasionally took him, he scarcely allowed himself to think about it. What was more, he had seen enough of life to know where one careless mistake could land you.

He could not help but wonder if he was not the only one who noticed the little things about Princess Lucy. He hoped—prayed even, although he did not know whom to pray to, that he was. This was not because he was even remotely possessive, one needs to posses something first to need the ownership of it and he had not, nor wanted, said possession. It was not because he was afraid of someone else showing her affection, and her returning it. She was a princess, and the truth was that he was not even a knight—he was more a sword than anything else; if his attentions and interest in Lucy was anything more than pheromones, it would never amount to anything, and he knew that. It was not for those reasons that he hoped no one else would notice Princess Lucy. It was because he had a firm guess on what could, and would, happen when someone else noticed a lady. After all, he had seen it on Susan.

Edmund craned his head around the room, Tumnus was clinking his knitting needles together, making what looked like an extremely long sock, but Lucy wasn't anywhere near. Before he could consider the repercussions of his question, he asked, "Where'd Lucy get off to? Is she still in bed?"

"_Princess_ Lucy," Tumnus said, "is out for a ride with Lady Jill this morning."

"Well," Edmund muttered, not at all fazed by the faun's distant behavior. He was used, after all, to people not liking him because he was Graced; it was actually somewhat refreshing for someone to have a legitimate reason to dislike him, even if he hadn't actually been trying to do what Tumnus seemed to think he had tried to do.

A bit of an awkward silence followed, where Edmund picked at his cuticles, and debated whether he should bring something up. Slowly, thinking that he sounded quite like an instigator, he said, "I heard that you want to request a new guard over the princess. I have to say, I knew you didn't like me, I just didn't know exactly how deep your hatred went."

If Edmund ever would look back on what he had just said, he would have admitted that it sounded rather nosy, and over all, a bit girlish, but it didn't quite matter. He needed to know where the faun's opinions were to him, so he would know to what lengths he would go to get rid of him, as it was clear he did not like him.

Without looking up from the sock-like thing he was working on, Tumnus said, "If you really want to know my opinion of you, the most I have feeling about of you is from what I've seen. And all I have seen was your uncomely advance to Princess Lucy."

Hiding a chortle, Edmund muttered. "I wasn't advancing to her. Believe me, if I ever decide to advance to her, you'll be able to tell."

Tumnus was a rather green color as he blinked away any unpleasant thoughts that had crept up during the conversation. "Look here," he said, after a moment. "If you're under the impression that I'll just believe you out of nowhere, I have to tell you that that will not happen. The princess is my charge, and if I see something that might put her in danger, I must put an end to it."

"I'm closer to your side than you might think," Edmund said, chewing on the inside of his cheek, and otherwise refusing to converse passed this.

The room seemed to get colder than the outside weather, despite the merry fire, and it might have never alleviated, if it were not for a sudden pang of remembrance on Edmund's part. He excused himself from the room, and started at a rapid pace down the halls, a parchment envelope in his fist, and swinging his blue cloak over his shoulders. He hated that cloak; it was what marked him as one of the privileged fighter's of Leck's, it was what made him get less scowls as he crossed the streets of Leck City.

He didn't want to do it, in fact, if he thought he could get away with it, he never would have done it. However, he had learned to pick his battles, and this certainly wasn't one he was willing to fight in. Moreover, it would delay, if nothing else, any foreign conflicts while he tried to figure out precisely what he was going to do about the Narnians.

Straddling a favorite gelding of his, Edmund clicked his tongue and made ready to go out into the snowy streets of the city. Even though the Monsean citizens still adverted their eyes as Edmund passed on horseback, no one pointed of laughed; the cloak was insurance that if someone did risk even a chortle or an insulting face, they would more likely be laughed at themselves in the future, for whatever physical affliction the soldier could so chose to give the offender. Edmund would never do something so unjust for a reason of simple, stupid pride, but the Monsean people didn't know that.

"Edmund! What are you doing out here?"

Looking up in front of him, Edmund saw Lucy and Jill coming up to him, each sitting on a light horse, in lovely contrast with the gray slush of the streets. Lucy's nose and cheeks were a pinkish color, her bare hands looked like they were getting rather chapped, but her cold lips were smiling at him.

"Well," Edmund said, attempting to answer her question. "I'm sending a letter in. Post, you know."

"Whose letter?" Jill asked, her eyes glaring, as though she knew where Edmund was sending the letter and why. More likely, however, the sun was simply in her eyes.

Although Edmund had complete faith in his ability to lie, as lies were the only thing that was always real to Edmund, something nudged him to tell the truth. Perhaps this was because he wanted to get caught; perhaps it was because he wanted Lucy to know what he was doing to her. Whatever the reason, he chose to, in fact, tell the truth, as far as the addresser of the letter. "Lucy's," he said.

"I thought the post office was in the other direction," Jill said, thoughtfully. "Or are you taking it in for revisions?"

Edmund winced, but nodded.

Lucy blinked. "Revisions? I'm sorry, but what's going on?"

"Letters that come from the castle tend to go through revisions," Edmund explained. It was now that he chose to lie. He was trying to alleviate any instant tension between himself and the Narnian princess; however, he felt more like a traitor with every word. "Nothing drastic. A few grammatical errors here, maybe a sentence or two that doesn't flow well there. It's all addressing mostly; we use a different language in the postal system here, and it will need a different envelope and…" he faded off, noticing a relieving flicker or doubt in Lucy's eyes that he never saw, and then noticing its replacement with belief. It was a different sort than usually fogged her eyes; she honestly believed him, and it was all of her own conscience. "You know," he finished, realizing he had been staring, "the thingummy on the envelopes…"

"Seals?"

"That's it."

"I see," Lucy said. A pause followed, and then, "Might I be able to come with you, Edmund?"

Much too quickly, Edmund said, "No. I mean, you need to get warmed up, you look positively freezing. Besides that, I don't think she'd take very kindly to another person along with me."

A queer look, one that was completely new to Lucy's face, darkened her features. "Oh," she said, and that was all.

"Well, I'll be back in a bit, Lucy." Edmund said, indicating that the conversation was at its end. "I think Tumnus might be knitting something for you. It might be worth looking into, if you want." He smiled slightly, but Lucy only matched him halfway, and not wholeheartedly.

The girls heeled on their horses and passed him, going at a nice walking pace back to Leck's castle. It seemed to Edmund like they were moving too slowly. Once they had passed him completely, he moved on, continuing on his short journey.

His destination was little more than a run-down little hovel with a crumbling roof and loose shingles. The garden was weedy and overgrown, but the light in the window told him that she was still there. After all, it had been years since someone from the crown had requested her services, for there had, previously, been a girl Graced with forgery at the castle. Therefore, the art of this Ungraced woman came off mediocre at best in comparison, and was pushed into the background. Unfortunately, for the girl Graced with forgery, she had been a very pretty girl, and no sooner had she turned fifteen (which was the legal age of complete emancipation in Monsea and most of the countries east of it, Narnia included), had she come down with a sudden sickness common of the girls who worked in the shelters. Shortly after, she died. That particular Graceling had been a close friend on Susan, but it was only Susan and Peter who seemed to think it anything but an upsetting mishap, and only these two went to the crude, unofficial burial. No one thought it terribly tragic; the girl had been a Graceling, and no one saw or thought of them after death. That, and of course, King Leck had insured all of her friends that she had been dreadfully ill, begging for death, and did not feel a thing when death claimed her.

Edmund set his jaw and rapped his knuckles against the decaying door.

An old woman with flashing green eyes opened the door a crack. "What d'you want?" She asked rather snappishly.

"I have a letter King Leck needs revised. He says it's of the utmost urgency." Edmund said, feeling hypocritical at the impact of his words.

The woman straightened instantly, and she invited Edmund in. He, however, saw the rats congregating in the corner, and declined, preferring to stand in the cold doorway. As sudden gush of winter wind hit him, as the snow from it melted down his back, he finally realized that he was doing. By going through with what he usually did, by picking his battles and deciding that doing this was not a direct danger, and that it would buy him some trust and stability for a little while, he was betraying Lucy entirely. Moreover, he felt guilty about it.

"You just gonna stand here and not tell me what the King wants, ain't you?" The woman asked suddenly.

Sighing Edmund spoke. "He needs you to revise this. It's a letter from Princess Lucy of Narnia to her parents, King Frank and Queen Helena of Narnia. The king wishes for certain things to be omitted, he says, to keep stability. He wants anything about Monsea to be replaced with, 'the West.' Anything about him is to also be completely stricken. Her talking about her friends you can keep. But, make sure everything seems harmonious." He sighed again, what was really tearing him apart was that he was actually using the King's words. He paused, and let a different voice take over. "Erm, I suppose I should tell you a thing or two about Princess Lucy's speech patterns or something…"

The woman glared at him. "Just 'cause I ain't Graced like you don't mean I can't write like the princess would. You Gracelin's is all the same—thinkin' you're better than the rest of us, just 'cause you have one thing you can do. Let me tell you, I can copy anybody's writin' and that ain't no Grace, that were years of work. I can cook and I can work to get by, and that ain't nothing special; but it's normal. They say the first Graclin' came from 'ell, you know. And that's where yous all is gonna go back to, mark my words."

Edmund wished, at that moment, desperately that she had been a man so he could show him precisely what a Grace could do, but as she was a woman, he kept his sword sheathed. Instead, he straightened and said monotonously, "The King thanks you for your cooperation. We expect the letter in the post office by the end of the week. I bid you good-day now."

To say that Edmund was a bit perturbed would be an understatement. He was furious. Part of it laid deeply rooted in his own inner thoughts and conflictions, but he chose to blame it all on the woman's rude behavior, which he grumbled about on his way back to the castle.

It was certainly not the first time someone had told him to go to hell, and it certainly would not be the last, but it never eased to bother him. He didn't even know why people used that insult. It was used so broadly, it seemed, that people seemed to forget that by telling people this, they are telling them that they want them to go to a fiery pit of despair for eternity to be tortured and miserable. The odd thing was, Edmund usually simply ignored insults, most of the time he would just walk away, but when people told him to go to hell, that was when, if he could, he would make all hell brake loose. He had done it before, and gotten quite the talk from both Susan and Peter. However, if he did, he would not be able to get that talk again. If only things could happen the same way twice, he thought, I would tell them how much I miss them.

He swung off the back of the gelding, and allowing the barn attendants to take care of the animal, stomped inside with heavy footfalls. He did not monitor who was walking around him, everyone blended in colorful, shapeless steaks. For all he knew, Queen Ashen could have been just behind him, and he wouldn't have noticed to step aside and let her pass. Thankfully, no one of consequence was out at the moment, so chances of him getting in trouble were lowered significantly.

Then, he entered the chambers he was staying in. In his mind, he still called them Peter's chambers, or our chambers, although it was not so anymore. If anything, they were Lucy's chambers, and yet, he could not bring himself to make that realization readily.

Lucy was sitting sideways on the armchair, with her legs swung over one of the arms, and her back resting on the other, in her lap, there was a long piece of parchment atop of a hard book, and in her hands a quill. It was a rather unladylike position, but not only was Edmund too upset and inside himself to care, the fact she had only just been completely alone did contribute for this not to be so shocking.

She frowned. "Edmund, what's wrong?" she said, putting aside her parchment and resting the quill back inside the ink.

"Nothing," Edmund muttered, collapsing on the sofa himself, swinging his feet up for good measure. "Nothing at all."

Lucy stood and, getting up from the chair to sit with him, took his hands in hers. It was rather obvious she saw passed his response, perhaps she did not even hear it. "If you want to talk, I'm willing to listen." She said.

Edmund's eyes flicked up to the image of Aslan over the fireplace. A question formed in his chest, and despite the screaming objections that rose in his head, he felt the need to verbalize it. "Do Narnians believe in predestination?"

"What?"

"That people have a certain place they're going to go—or a certain thing they're going to do, or even a way they're going to live. It's already planned out, and you can't to anything to change it. Even if you try with everything you have, you can't change it." Edmund said, staring into the fire. "If you're destined to be wicked, you're going to be, no matter how hard you try not to be."

"Well," Lucy said, after a moment. "I suppose some Narnians believe that. I, personally, don't think so. But I don't think people can change everything on their own either. I think you can do a little, but to turn your whole life around? That's a place where Aslan can help you."

"You sound so sure," Edmund almost smiled at her. Not quite, but almost. She did sound confident, and that was certainly admirable.

"I am," Lucy agreed. "I just know it."

"But, how? I mean, how are you so sure?" Edmund was looking her dead in the eyes. He was unused to the fact that some people think, predominantly, with their hearts, as well as the fact that some people are preoccupied with the what instead of the why.

Lucy thought about this, for a moment, at the image of Aslan. Then, she spoke, "Why would we have the ability to change our minds if we aren't supposed to? Why would we be capable thoughts and feelings if we're not supposed to have them?

Edmund cocked his brow, and then nodded grimly. He moved his own eyes slowly over the golden Lion's head once more. The metal caught the light and shined brightly, it seemed bigger in that moment as well, and he was fooling himself, but he could have sworn he saw it move.

XXXXXXXX

If Edmund had been less preoccupied with himself that afternoon, he might have asked where Tumnus had run off to, and the answer would have been enough to send him into sudden nervousness. The faun had taken the moment with the guard gone, and with the princess away with a friend, to request an audience with King Leck.

Leck had allowed Tumnus in, always intrigued about Narnians, and upon asking the faun why he came to him, was greeted with a request that, truthfully, baffled the king.

"Your majesty," Tumnus said, "I hope you do not find me to presumptuous, as you have been nothing but kind and generous to Princess Lucy and to myself, but I am here on a request for her safety, and I must ask it soon."

Leck nodded, and allowed the faun to continue.

"I would like to ask that a new guard be established over our rooms. I believe that the current guard, Edmund, has ill intentions toward her, as I have come in upon some very suggestive times." Tumnus said, standing straight, hoping with all his might that the king would do so, he was confident that he would, King Leck was such a good man, after all.

"Edmund?" Leck asked, his brow rising. "I am sure that what he does is none of your concern. Now, before we put this all behind us—as that would be the best thing to do, of course. But, tell me exactly what it is that you saw, that you labeled as suggestive?"

Tumnus nodded and went on to tell Leck everything he had seen and all of his suspicions. He really cannot be blamed for this, however; bear in mind, dear reader, that he was only attempting to keep the princess safe.

Once the faun was done, the king nodded. "I see. As it stands, you needn't worry, Master Tumnus. Edmund is a trained Monsean guard. He knows the acceptable and unacceptable ways to act around a lady. What is expected and what is done, that is."

Tumnus instantly felt relieved. Why, of course he did not have to worry. Everything would be fine. Edmund did not seem as frightening, nor as threatening in his memories. The boy was an esteemed member of the Monsean guard, after all, Tumnus thought. However, he couldn't help but remember what his eyes had seen. Still, King Leck had told him that he needn't worry. Therefore, he wouldn't. He would trust the king who was kind enough to take Lucy and himself into the home of many, and to treat them so nicely! They were King Leck's guests, and this was the least Tumnus could do to show his appreciation. He decided to put whatever worries remained in the farthest reaches of his brain, not to be consciously brought up, but there to fuel a new reaction if he ever needed it again.

**A/N: So, yeah, this chapter is way more windy than what I'm used to writing. I blame Great Expectations, which is what I'm reading for class right now. Sorry about that. Also, if certain moments seem OOC, I'm sorry. I tried to make it fit to the best of my ability. Please review!**


	9. Hawks

Breakfast was always brought in to Lucy by maids throughout the castle, most of them Ungraced, accompanied by a few young children who hadn't yet discovered their Graces, Scrubbs. Because of this, she could not simply pick out a few steamed vegetables and a cup of tea from the kitchen and have her morning meal easily and without temptation. Instead, she had to sit at a table with sausages, and sugary hotcakes every morning. There was also a pitcher of wine every morning. This was something completely contrary to Lucy diet; wine had been known to improve the heart, but if by any chance, the princess might drink too much and fall down because of it? No, she was never permitted to drink as much watered-down wine, just in case. Edmund gladly had the meats, cakes, and the wine, even more so since Tumnus had suddenly allowed him to eat at the table with them.

Lucy was not sure that she would even like the taste of sausages or cakes, but they definitely smelled as though they would be far more appealing than spinach and broccoli. It was one of the more vexing matters of her disease. There wasn't much reason to dwell over it, Lucy thought, it ceased mattering between meals; as the only time she ever really cared about it was when she was at a table full of things she could not eat.

One particular morning, she found that she could barely focus on that, however. She had stayed up rather late the night before, with parchment on her lap and a quill in her hand. In fact, ink stains still stood out on her hands. She had found there was so much to say, and frankly, she couldn't wait to send it, which reminded her of a certain detail about Monsean culture that still confused her; the postal system.

"Do I always have to take letters in for revisions?" Lucy asked, with this in mind.

"Usually," Edmund said looking over his bratwurst. "Why? Have you already written another letter to your parents?"

Shaking her head, Lucy said, "Not to my parents, to Caspian."

"Who?" Edmund blinked.

"The Telmarine prince," Tumnus explained. "He and Lucy have always gotten on."

"The prince?" Edmund repeated, feeling as though there was a hold in his stomach.

Lucy nodded, and then said, "Are you all right, Edmund? You look a little green suddenly."

Nodding stiffly, Edmund said, "Yes. I'm fine. Excuse me," with that, he rigidly stood and left the room.

Lucy set her lips into a frown, but finished her vegetables, feeling only slightly remorseful about the scent of sausages wafting through the air, her mind more centrally focused on why Edmund had left so suddenly. She knew that things had gotten rather confusing in the last few days. Not only had Tumnus suddenly had a rather nice change of heart over Edmund, but her own relationship with her guard had turned more complex with every passing day. Something was changing in the air, though she couldn't tell exactly what.

After she finished her breakfast, she went out into the main room, where she found him, deadly staring at the fireplace. His mouth rested on his knuckles and he barely seemed to notice her entrance.

Lucy crouched behind the arm of the sofa, and said gently, "What's wrong?"

In a voice that seemed very distant, as though he was not right next to her, Edmund said, "There used to be a loose floorboard in here. Peter carved in his and Susan's initials to mark where it was, but it looks like they've sanded it over." He set his jaw, and then relaxed it, "If I could find it again, I suppose there would be a seal in here so you could send your letter."

"Thank you," Lucy smiled, but her face was instantly drawn serious by Edmund's next question.

"Why don't you want it to go through the usual post? Is this latter that wildly personal?"

It was Lucy's turn to blink. "No. Why would I tell Caspian anything wildly personal, that you wouldn't be able to hear? I'm closer to you and to Tumnus than I am to him. I just don't want this letter to take so long. I want it to reach him by his birthday in two weeks."

"Oh," Edmund said quietly, feeling a bit like an ass. "I see. Well, in that case, you won't want it to go though the postal system at all. You'll want to use a hawk."

Lucy wrinkled her brow at his question, but before she could open her mouth to inquire about it, Edmund gripped her wrist and led her out of the room. He dropped her hand the second they left the door, in fear of anyone catching sight of them, but he continued moving at a quick pace.

If Lucy were to ask about their destination, Edmund would only smirk or wink at her, and tell her to be patient. It was somewhat trying, but more than anything else, amusing. It was like a game, the way he led her through rooms and passages, only to wind up in the main hallways once more. Then, at long last, they appeared at the long staircase they had taken down to the training arena.

Cocking a brow at Edmund, Lucy took a step downward on the staircase, trying desperately not to lose her balance. These attempts, of course, led her to falter even more than she had the first time, which led to more playful banter between herself and Edmund.

They walked longer through the tunnel than last time, passing several rooms with high staircases, none of which they took, they just continued walking down the narrow tunnel. Lucy would continually ask where they were headed, and each time, she was only met by a playful smirk.

"Can't you tell me where we're going?" she asked.

"You'll see when we get there," he said, and then he finished with, "Watch your step, it gets icy up here."

Soon enough, the two came to a long staircase leading upward, although this was nowhere near the end of the tunnel. Every one of the steps was covered in a thick layer of ice. Lucy breathed slowly, and was careful not to lose her balance. Edmund, remaining close behind her, probably would have caught her if she did fall, but since it was so slippery, no one could know for sure.

The closer to the top them came, Lucy noticed, there seemed to be a foul smell in the air. Something musty and concentrated. She must have wrinkled her nose, because Edmund let off a very fake sneeze, obviously trying to cover up a laugh.

At the head of the stairs, Lucy finally saw what made the foul smell in the air. She was standing in an old lord's manor, turned into an aviary. A great hole was torn into the ceiling, where a few big birds flew all around, while others seemed strapped to horizontal planks. Enormous brown and gray birds of prey sat in the room, staring unblinkingly at the Narnian princess.

"Hawks?" Lucy said, trying to exhale more than inhale in the musty room.

Edmund nodded. "Technically, it's completely unofficial. Some of us use the hawks to stay in contact with the Council in the Midluns, if ever we need it."

"The Council?" Lucy blinked. "What's that?"

"Oh, right. You wouldn't know, would you? Well, what you do know is that pretty much all of the kings of the Seven Kingdoms are corrupt; they give out stupid rulings and make life a living hell for their subjects on their personal whims. So, Lady Katsa of the Midluns started the Council to protect people from their kings. I suppose she's trying to compensate for her killing Grace. Anyway, there are friends of the Council in Monsea—myself included—even though they don't actually _do_ anything here."

Lucy shrugged at this. "Well, do you think they'd need to with King Leck? I don't think…what's the matter?"

"Let's not talk about Leck right now, all right?" Edmund offered her a weak smile. "About the hawks. They don't go through any sort of checking with the system, and they're trained to fly through the night. I don't think they usually go east, but they can make it to Lienid in a few days. They should be able to reach Telmar by the end of the week."

Smiling, Lucy said, "Thank you."

With this, Edmund proceeded to look at the hawks, thinking about something. He picked up a thick glove from the table and placed it over his forearm. Picking up a little silver whistle, he placed it between his lips and blew out. It gave off an airy note that Lucy could just barely hear. Before she could have a chance to ask about it, the hawks who were flying overhead swooped inward and landed on the empty planks, whereupon Edmund went along attaching a leach upon their legs. He did the reverse to a few who had been strapped down when they entered, untying the leach and letting them fly upward into the sky. Then he walked towards a burly-looking brown hawk, and placed a little strap with a circular container over its back.

Once he was done, he stepped towards Lucy and asked for her letter. Once he had the parchment in his hand, he rolled it and slipped it into the container with one fluid motion. Lifting the hawk to eye level, Edmund said, "The royal castle in Telmar."

Te instant the hawk was unclipped from Edmund's wrist guard, it spread its impressive wings and flew into the sky. Lucy was left to marvel its great strength.

XXXXXXX

It seemed as though the snow only wanted to fall during the day in Monsea. Day after day, nothing but pure white snowflakes fell through the air. Sometimes the wind blew so hard, and the snow fell so fast, that the only thing that could be seen was a flurry of white. However, because the weather had become so stormy, most of the higher class living in Leck's castle constantly lived indoors. Lucy received no more invitations for ice-skating, for the outside world was too wild to venture out.

Tumnus was nearly finished with the history book Helena had given them, and was recently given a large book exclusive to Monsean history. However, less than twenty minutes after Edmund had learned of it, it mysteriously disappeared. Because of this, the lessons usually covered languages and equations from then onward.

While Lucy didn't mind learning some of the old Western languages, as well as going further into what she knew of Old Narnian (this she was nearly fluent in, so lessons of this merely consisted of conversations with Tumnus). Learning the Western languages proved to be harder than Lucy had anticipated; she had picked up on Old Narnian so quickly, having heard a little of it around her since she was very young, and the fact that Sunder's ancient Latin-sounding language was so complex and foreign, Lucy could barely remember basic vocabulary. She was rather glad that English was common throughout the world; and even more so that the ancient Monsean language had almost died out completely—died out with dragons according to the first history book. The new equations were just as bad on her memory; Tumnus would go slowly, and repeat anything she needed, but there were so many steps, and so many rules to remember. She was able to get a grasp on what to do, unlike remembering the vocabulary, but none of it was what one could call fun.

It was not always schooling, however, even with the stormy weather. Edmund had developed a habit of taking Lucy into the hallways for walks. He would take her through the libraries, where she would read stories and they would sometimes change details together and therefore the entire outcome of the story. It became a game, their game, and they would enjoy the strange twists and queer things that would happen to Little Red Riding Hood or any fictional princesses. When they weren't doing this, and when Lucy was not with a textbook on her lap, they would be with Jill and Eustace. Sitting together, and talking, the four would never do much more than play cards or chess, but somehow, there was a closeness there that was special and new.

Days went on from here, and after that, the frosty weeks continued on and on. Over time, invitations to dine with King Leck ceased. Edmund allowed this to become a sort of light in a dark tunnel; perhaps Leck had forgotten about the Narnians. If so, Edmund was grateful; Lucy would be safe. Perhaps, he thought, if they could be removed from Monsea, and sent back to Narnian, if Leck really had forgotten. However, Edmund did not want this to happen. He had gotten used to companionship, it made the fat that Peter and Susan were gone easier to swallow; it made him realize that he was still alive, that he could have something in his life still. He knew that a part of him had died with Peter and Susan, something inside of him was gone, and it could never be replaced, but something else could still be alive inside of him. Not only these, but he told himself, it would be dangerous. For, if Leck had not forgotten, and then he called for Lucy or for Tumnus, there was no telling what could happen. For these reasons, and one or two others, Edmund did not sent Lucy and Tumnus back to Narnia while he had the chance. Call it what you will—selfish or stupid, it seemed fair in his mind, but still, he as left wishing with all his heart that Leck really had forgotten about Lucy.

XXXXXXX

It took almost two months for Lucy's first letter to reach Narnia. When Helena first saw the envelope from her daughter, she cried out and tore it open. Frank was in a meeting with an advisor, and while Helena considered that he might want to read it with her first, he knew he wouldn't mind, as long as he got to read it. She read through the letter once, twice, and then blinked. Then she frowned. Something was wrong, she could tell. Immediately, she called out for Frank with utmost urgency.

Frank came in dashing through the doors, having practically run all the way across Cair Paravel when he heard of his wife's distress. "Helena! What's the matter? Your maid made it seem as though you caught on fire! What happened?"

Helena handed the parchment to him. "A letter came in today. It's from Lucy."

Frank's face was already the color of ashes from worry, and now it turned as white as the snow. "What's wrong with Lucy?" he began reading the letter vehemently, recognizing his daughter's looping handwriting. Nothing seemed wrong, initially.

"It doesn't look like there's anything," Helena said. "But there are times when something seems wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Helena paced towards the window and then back to her husband. "She mentions nothing at all about Lienid. I thought she would have gone off about the Sea—you know how much she loves it! As least a passing moment expressing her thanks at seeing the sea again after traveling so far. Then, Ivy actually had told me that she had had a passing plan to try and court Lucy with the youngest prince there. Oh, it's all right. I tried to talk Ivy out of it, and Lucy knows that she'll never be able to marry. She wouldn't lead him on, even with Ivy's pushing." Helena waved her hand at her husband's face.

"I hope you're right," Frank murmured.

"Focus, darling." The queen halfway glared. How could he not see any of this? "She doesn't mention anything about Lienid at all. Nothing cultural, nothing about any of it. She talks about the friends she's made, and that's it."

"Perhaps she's having a hart time adjusting," Frank put in. "You went through a period of culture shock too, Helena."

"That isn't the point. Besides, look at this." She pointed out a sentence in the text. "It says, 'Great skies.'Lucy would never say that, Frank!"

Blinking at his wife, Frank had to remind her, "I haven't even been west of Telmar, remember. You'll have to explain why she wouldn't say it."

"It's the Western equivalent for 'by the Lion,' or anything like that. It's elemental—they don't believe in Aslan there. Lucy couldn't have forgotten, she loves Aslan too much."

The king's brow furrowed. "Perhaps she just doesn't understand. I suppose it is possible—she's still a child after all. Come; let's write a letter to your sister. We can ask her how Lucy's holding up, and make sure that she's not being influenced in any harmful ways."

Helena had to hold back a sob. "We shouldn't have let her leave! I can't bare not knowing how she's holding out—or even if she's alive! And now this!"

"As much as I want to know how she is, all the time," Frank said, pulling out stationary and calling for new ink. "I think we both know that we have to let Lucy live her life. She's going to be fifteen this spring; she'll be a woman. I hate to admit it, but we have to loosen our grip some time. Besides, Helena, she's in Lienid with your family. As long as Ivy is watching over her, I don't think she'll be in danger."

Even though Frank pretended to be calm, as a King was supposed to be, his writing was shaky, and he couldn't mask the nervousness he felt inside his stomach.

**A/N: Short chapters win, and you know it. Please review!**


	10. What Was Behind the Fire

"And, checkmate," Lucy said triumphantly grinning as Jill giggled over her shoulders.

"Already?" Eustace said, almost pouting, but not quite.

Edmund did little to hide the playful sarcasm in his voice, "Because that was probably the fastest game of chess in history. But, for the record, girls, we did almost win_."_

"Oh, do be a man and admit that we were three moves ahead of you the whole time!" Jill said.

Edmund raised a brow. "You mean Lucy was three steps ahead of us the whole time."

Jill then proceeded to pull a pretend face at Edmund and said, "You just wish you were on Lucy's team to begin with."

The four children had been spending their evening in the company of each other. Tumnus had been overly tired that day, and therefore had retired to bed immediately after supper. This left the children to entertain themselves, the result of which was pairing off and playing about three dozen games of chess, most of which Lucy and Jill won. It was a bit difficult to play chess in teams, but all there really was to it was discussion on where to move the pieces; this was Eustace and Edmund's weakness, as they never seemed to agree on where to move which piece and when.

"Another game, then, gentlemen?" Jill asked, taking the pieces back to set up the board.

Simultaneously, both Eustace and Edmund said, "Let's try something else."

"Ed, didn't you say there was a loose floorboard somewhere around here?"

Throughout this conversation, Lucy had drifted off, and had been running her fingers along the smooth floorboards. All eyes drew to her from the seemingly random question.

"Erm," Edmund said, confused. "Yes. But, I'm fairly sure that it's on the other end of the room. Don't know where it is specifically, but I'm pretty certain of that."

"Still," Lucy said, biting her lip. "This board feels loose, and it looks like there used to be some sort of engraving on it."

Edmund frowned. "Where?"

He crawled over the chessboard to come nearer to where Lucy was sitting. When she pointed to the floorboard in question, he furrowed his brow. This was something he had never noticed, even though he had lived there, in that very room, for years before.

"What is it?" Jill asked.

Edmund dug his nails into the floor, and surely enough, with very little effort, it moved. He shifted it back and forth until it came away from the ground. There was an old compartment beneath it, covered in cobwebs, and made of dark splintering wood. On the bottom of this compartment, there was a heavy, fraying rope, the sort that was typically used to pull curtains. At one point, the rope might have been purple, or red, but had lost its color from age.

Once more, Edmund furrowed his brow. When Lucy reached down into the floor, stretching her fingers for the rope, he caught her hand. "What are you doing?"

Lucy blinked, still unused to the feeling of his hand on hers. "Aren't you curious?" she asked, after a moment.

"Not really," Eustace put in, reminding the two that he and Jill were still in the room. "A lot of passages must have been made up to two centuries ago, when the castle was build, and there probably isn't a way out of them. By Jove, there should be about a seventy-five percent chance that we would get caught under the castle, and a twenty-five percent chance that…"

Edmund abruptly cut Eustace off from his prattle. "I get the feeling you're making up those statistics," he muttered.

Too distracted to listen to the boys go at it; Lucy quickly pulled the rope with a good yank on her arm. The sound of wood breaking deep beneath their feet shut both of the boys up. The four children sat in deadly silence as the heard more wood breaking, crashes, and even once the shattering of glass. Then, without warning, the golden shield bearing Aslan's face broke off from the fireplace, and there was the deep chaffing sound as the stone seemed to split in two, and broke apart slowly. Behind the fireplace, there seemed to be, a large black chamber of sorts.

"Well," Edmund said, once the sounds had stopped and the fireplace was once again stationery. "That was new."

It took no longer than the time it took for the Graceling to say this, for a great cracking sound to come up from the embers of the fire that was roaring in the center of where the fireplace once was. Then, as there seemed to be a barrier between half of the fire built in, it separated with a pitchy tug and began to head to the other side of the fireplace. Once there, there was another cracking noise, and the fire began to build, it seemed, although not growing tall or wide, but it seemed to grow _behind _where it was currently.

Edmund, taking precaution, came closer to the fireplace and first saw what had happened with the fire. Some sort of pulley had taken the flaming logs apart, and once the flames reached the opposite side of the pit, it sat on a sort of flammable powder, which led all the way to the back of the once-dark chamber, giving light. It was an enormous room, a good jump from the level of where he stood at the base of the fireplace, maybe a meter down, long and deep.

It took him a while to realize that Lucy had come closer and was now standing beside him. "Oh, goodness! Look at all this!" She breathed.

It was almost as large as the living quarters itself, including the bathing room, bedchambers, dining area, and the sitting room, with delicate and ancient architecture that didn't quite look Monsean throughout it. Bluntly decorated suits of armor lined the walls, while a boastful-looking chest inlaid with jewels sat at the very back of the room, and modest shelves above and around it. It was long and wide, a yellow glow filled the room with dim lighting, although making it obvious enough to see what was there.

The two exchanged a look together; they seemed to be asking a similar question. Lucy gave a little nod, to which Edmund said, "You're batty!" However, he was smiling as he said it, and he inched closer in towards the fireplace himself, careful not to step on the hot ashes left over when the fire separated.

"What do you think you're doing?" Eustace called. "You don't know what's down there."

"Shouldn't we at least have a look around?" Edmund said. "It isn't every day you discover some ancient storage space in your fireplace."

"Didn't you hear all that crashing?" Jill put in. "I'm with Eustace. Besides, we could get caught underground!"

Edmund shrugged. "Stay outside, then. I want to see what this is about."

Honestly, he had an idea. Peter had been the sort of person who knew a lot about the secrets of the castle, as he was one of the few privileged by a station in the castle low enough so he wouldn't have to sit through unbearable meetings about the country (or frivolous history lessons), but high enough so that he had the ability to wander through most of the castle unquestioned. This had been important when he was still alive, as Edmund found out, but it had also been amusing, learning the secret passages that maybe Leck did not even know. With this in mind, Edmund supposed that—perhaps, if he wasn't deluding himself—Peter might have kept a secret in there, something that might have alluded to a reason that the plan failed the last time (though Edmund could think of several reasons on his own why it did). He also hoped, secretly, that there would be some proof that Peter and Susan had known, or had had the slightest inclination of what they were doing; or even that they had planned on telling Edmund eventually.

"We shouldn't split up," Lucy said, her voice projecting Edmund out of his thoughts. "It seems safer to me if we stay together."

"I'm going," Edmund said, already having decided, "Are you?"

Lucy seemed rather interested in going herself, and was the next to say so. Eustace and Jill took a little prodding, and honestly, Edmund would have been fine leaving them in the room, but Lucy seemed to have it in her head to take them along. Possibly a girl thing, Edmund couldn't help but think, they could never go anywhere without at least one other female with them. However, at this point, Lucy had allowed her curiosity to take hold of her, and she decided she would go with Edmund, and with or without the other two.

Edmund stood on the ashes, where the fire once stood, and getting a better view of the drop, noticing exactly how steep it was, he turned to Lucy and staid, "Are you sure you want to make that jump? It's a rather long fall."

Lucy nodded. "Yes," she said. "You don't need to worry about me."

Edmund paused. Lucy often said this to Tumnus, who constantly fussed over her. Was it possible that Lucy had been worried over so much in Narnia that she hated it when anyone was concerned at all? It did not seem much like her, but he had to consider the possibility. With this thought, he had to wonder for a second, and think about what was wrong with her. This, however, was immediately pushed away. He could see nothing wrong with her at all. With this in mind, he drew the conclusion that Narnians were a bit high-strung, and to keep an eye out for this quality.

"All right," he said. "I'll catch you, though."

To this, Lucy did not object. Therefore, Edmund turned his back to the room, and jumped downward. It seemed like a long fall, much longer than it actually was; he had enough time to think about the sinking sensation—the feeling of falling. When he landed, he had forgotten to bend his knees and was greeted with a sharp pain in his feet. Sucking that much in, Edmund turned over to Lucy, and held his arms upward. "I'm ready when you are," he called.

Lucy nodded, and straight as a line, plunged through air. She was instantly in Edmund's arms and with a slight tinge of pink on her cheeks, a look mirrored in him. They broke apart, and stepped away from the ledge. The first thing that Edmund looked for was how it opened. On the wall closest to the entrance, there was a series of pulleys, levers, planes and even a few miniature catapults, all set up to set off another one, it appeared, ending with a thick-roped pulley meant to open up the fireplace, and to move the flaming logs aside. Everything was ancient, and at what appeared to be the beginning of these machines, was a giant stone, too large for Edmund to move on his own. He knew that this was the only opportunity to search the room. On the other end, there was another series of machines, he could tell, meant to close the fireplace once more.

With this knowledge, he called up towards the entrance, "If you don't come down now, I don't think you'll have another chance to!"

To this, Eustace rebutted with, "And do you two have a way up?"

Edmund was at a loss at this. In complete honesty, he hadn't yet considered that, extremely embarrassing to someone whose Grace involved strategies. However, he quickly solved it. "Tie some rope up there so we can climb up."

It was only moments wait before a strong, new rope came down, clashing with the old look of the hidden chamber. Jill came sliding down the rope somewhat gracefully, landing on her feet and going to stand over next to Lucy rather quickly. Eustace, however, lost his balance somewhat high up on the rope, and came tumbling down onto his face.

Jill was by his side in a second. "Are you all right?" she asked.

Spluttering out dirt, Eustace replied, "Sure, I suppose. Wasn't expecting that fall." 

Looking around wearily, Jill said, "Can we have a quick look around and then go? I don't like it here—it's too dark, and I don't like being underground."

At this point, all they all decided to split up to look around. Jill had gotten distracted by a handsome set of ancient bridles and saddles along the far wall, Eustace, strangely enough, was drawn to a blank wall with strange calligraphy written across it and remained there for much of the time. Lucy stuck by Edmund's side, not because she was afraid, but because he did not seem interested in one thing, he was looking all over the place, which was what she was hoping to do.

The longer he looked, the more frustrated Edmund became. He did not know what he had been looking for. The room was so old that it was possible that Peter and Susan had not known a thing about it. One thing was for certain, however, there was nothing in there that he had hoped for. Not even the slightest sign of anything.

He and Lucy came to the far end of the room, where the handsome chest lay and as well as a modest looking shelf. Lucy, somehow, took an instant dislike to the chest, and suddenly turned to the shelf, something on it catching her eye. Edmund, however, looked at the chest—it looked gaudy and proud with its jewels and gold, but he did not much mind this, living in Leck's castle all his life. There was a lock on it, but he pulled out his dagger, and began to pick it. It only took a few moments—this was a trade shown around amongst soldiers between practices. Older soldiers always showed the younger ones how to do things of the sort, such as picking locks, cheating on poker, and having a rather shocking ability to hold liquor.

Once the chest was opened, Edmund looked inside. There was not much inside, the only thing of consequence, he thought, appeared to be a set of shimmering sticks. When he pulled them out, he came to realize that the two sticks must have, at one point, been one single entity; a staff, perhaps, although the word that came to the Graceling's mind was "wand."

Looking closer, he realized that it had a beautiful craftsmanship, appearing to be made out of nothing but snow and ice, even though it was warm in his grasp, as though it had suddenly come alive. Just holding the wand in his hands gave him thoughts of power and, even more, or being loved and happy. At first, it seemed like a very good thing. That quickly melted away into, what seemed like a guilty pleasure; like eating a few too many pieces of a very rich candy. Mere seconds after this, that melted away, and he literally felt as though he had to vomit, as though those candies he had been indulging in had really been made of a sort of poison, and that he had eaten far too much for his health.

Quickly after this, he hurled the wand back into the chest once more, hoping, secretly, that he could break it once again, even if he was unsure why. Then, he moved his concentration to Lucy.

"What do you suppose this is, Edmund?" she called to him, showing him a little cordial filled with a shimmering red liquid. It was not crimson red, not like blood; but bright and shimmering. He had never seen anything quite like it before.

He blinked at it. "Where did you find that?"

"Right here," Lucy gestured to the shelf. "It had a little belt along with it; I don't know why, but I just decided to try it on, and it fits. Strangely enough, it doesn't have any options for fitting; only one place for it to buckle, and it fits me perfectly."

Edmund didn't know what to think. It seemed like a mere coincidence to him, but Lucy seemed to think there was more to it. He decided not to question it, only looked at the shelf himself for a moment.

There were many things on the old, splintering wood. Old sheaths, an ancient-looking arrow Susan would have loved, and a helmet; but what caught Edmund's eye was the most fantastic sword he had ever seen. The metal shone, even in the insufficient lighting, the handle seemed perfect for his hand when he lifted it; the weight of it just right. Something sudden came over him, and he did not know what do think of it, but it felt good to hold the sword; it felt right. Without a single word to any of his friends, he exchanged the sword he had had in his sheath at that moment, for the new one.

By this point, Jill had had quite enough. She went to the two. "Can we please go back up? I'd rather not be down here."

Both Edmund and Lucy would have preferred to stay and have a better look around, but they could see the discomfort in Jill's mismatched eyes, so they agreed.

"Come on, Eustace, we're heading up." Jill called once both of the others had settled.

"Wait." Eustace said, with a bit of a dire expression on his face. "I think you should look at this, Edmund. It's important."

"What is it?" Both Lucy and Jill said, coming up behind Edmund.

The three stared at the wall. Calligraphy they could not comprehend stared back at them. Lines and circles, symbols and runes that meant absolutely nothing greeted their eyes.

"Well," Edmund said, unsure of what to make of it. "That is…interesting, I suppose. Let's go and head—"

"What do you mean?" Eustace demanded. "You didn't have time to read it properly. I'm not an idiot, though you might think it. I'm telling you that it's important!"

"Eustace," Jill said slowly, "We can't read that. It's not in English—or even in Monsean."

"It looks like the ancient language of the People of the Dragons." Lucy put in, getting queer looks from everyone, once more. To these looks, she responded. "I can't read it. I just know what it looks like from some old books in the library at Cair Paravel."

"What do you mean the ancient language of the People of the Dragons?" Eustace demanded. "I swear; it's plain English. Can't you see it?"

Suddenly, Jill gasped. "Eustace! You can read something the rest of us can't!"

"Evidentially." Eustace said. "How do I know you aren't playing some rotten trick?"

"Don't you know what this means?"

"No."

Jill sighed. "It means, your Grace has presented itself! You can understand languages! Lucy," she turned her head to the Narnian princess, "Say something in ancient Narnian, or some other language that the rest of us don't know."

Lucy, rather baffled, said, "Well, erm…_dunst yech conprenst vas fosch vorter?" _

Before Jill or Edmund could react, or ask Eustace if he understood, he answered her question. "Yes, of course I can understand what you're saying. Why? You were speaking English, weren't you?"

To this, Lucy excitedly shook her head. "I was speaking Old Narnian, actually."

At this point, Eustace let out a great laugh. "You mean, I really have found my Grace? By Jove, this is incredible! This is…"

"Congratulations," Edmund said, dry humor playing in his voice. "You're a man now. What does it say that you need me to hear?"

"Oh, right." Eustace said. "Well, it's a story. I'll tell it to you, I suppose."

Therefore, Eustace began to read off the wall,

"In a land to the West, hidden by mountains, there was once a young Graceling. This was very peculiar, because there aren't Gracelings west of Monsea, but no one seemed to mind, or care. They were all too busy dealing with monsters. These monsters could control your thoughts, leak into your brain. The Graceling did not mind this, in fact, he found it interesting because it reflected his own Grace. Immiker—for that was the Graceling's name—had a Grace that allowed him to control others through his words, and even at the tender age of ten, he already knew that he was more powerful than even many monsters that populated his land. Of the smaller ones, he would play 'games' with them. He would peel away their claws, scales or tear out their fur; once he had obtained a knife, his 'games' grew to slashing them and watching the blood trickle down, onto the ground—oh, how he loved it…"

"How disgusting!" Lucy put in, and Jill instantly agreed, Edmund, however, had a grim look on his face, and only urged Eustace to finish the story.

"One day," Eustace continued reading, "Immiker was playing with a monster in the form of a blue rabbit, and his father came to him. Now, Immiker's father, whose name was Larch, was little more than a servant to Immiker. Everything the boy said, his father believed, naturally, and therefore, the boy could make his father do anything. However, if there was one imperfection in Immiker's life at that point, it was his name. He loathed it. It was silly, sentimental; and Immiker was none of those things. Now, as it happened that fateful day, Larch approached his son, and told him some very startling news—that he had, at long last, discovered Immiker's Grace. He now knew that the boy could take over his entire mind with even one simple word. This came as a problem to Immiker, but when he heard it, he laughed. This laughter, even, was enough to change Larch's attitude. The stupid father began to laugh along with him, as Immiker approached him, with his dagger in the air. Even as he came closer, Larch went as far as to hold his arms out to his son, as though to hold him. When Immiker was close enough, he thrust his dagger into his father's stomach, and left him to die, not without saying, 'You have been delightful. I'll miss your devotion. If only it were as easy to control everyone as it is to control you. If only everyone were as stupid as you, Father.' In years to come, it is terrible to admit, that Immiker grew stronger, and therefore, soon it became just as simple to control people, as it had been to control Larch. However, at this point, right after he had killed his own father, Immiker had decided that he must move onward, and was grateful for it. He found that something new was coming, and he decided to change his name to mark this. He thought of a name, the people in this western land had a queer way of pronouncing his father's name and he rather liked it. Therefore, he decided to take that pronunciation for his own name." Eustace faded here. "And I can't read that last bit," he stuttered, speaking far too quickly, "it's hazy."

Lucy, at this point, looked as though she were going to vomit. "How could anyone be so evil?" she said. "To kill your own father, and then take his name? And even what he did to the monsters. They weren't monsters; Immiker was."

"Why did you tell Edmund that?" Jill asked, feeling quite similar to Lucy.

Eustace would not break his eyes from the wall. "I thought it was important to something. I suppose I was wrong. Let's go," he said, still obviously lying.

The girls were the first to leave, climbing up on the rope ladder. It did not take long, and Edmund was about to hoist himself up, still with the grave expression on his face, when Eustace grabbed his arm.

"Wait," he said. "I could read that last line. I just didn't want the girls to hear. You know how they can be."

Edmund nodded, feeling as though he knew what was coming. "I know. So, what did it say?"

"I know you know something about this, and you need to tell me. After what I read, I need an explanation."

"What did it say?" Edmund repeated, perhaps a bit more forcefully this time.

Eustace exhaled, as though he didn't want to admit it, and then he said it slowly, like every word was poison.

"And so he changed his name to Leck."


	11. Truth

Edmund stared at the ground for what seemed like days. So that was how it happened, he thought, the murder that started it all. Finally, he lifted his head to look at Eustace. "Well," he said, "there you are."

Eustace's face dropped. "That's all you have to say? You mean, that_ is _the story of King Leck?"

"I wouldn't know for sure," Edmund admitted. "But, it does fit. The Graces match, as do the attitudes and the way he treated the rabbit—I'd bet on it."

"He's Graced? Of course, everything makes sense now. I suppose he really does hurt the animals in the shelters? Cuts them up like that rabbit in the story? I think I saw something once, but he made me forget it." Eustace's brow drew closed. "How could I be such an idiot?"

Edmund spoke, unsure at this moment if his words would have a positive or a negative effect. "It isn't your fault. You aren't the only one who he made forget things."

"I gather it isn't just animals whom he harms. The girls who work in the shelter, when they get sick and die…it's him, isn't it?" Eustace griped, and then turned white. "Jill," he said. "Is Jill safe?"

Edmund frowned. "No one is safe." He spoke quietly, knowing he was going to upset him, "But, it's not exactly a secret, even with Leck's reputation, that he's fond of the company of women, isn't it?"

Eustace seemed to get far more pale than he had already been. "And he doesn't just cut them up, does he?"

Edmund swallowed. "He wants them to go into complete submission to him. He wants the surrender of those who are weaker and defenseless; what do you think?"

"Does his wife know?" Eustace asked, pausing.

"Queen Ashen is just as much of a victim as any of the people he's hurt. When she does see something; he'll make sure she forgets. And if she remembers, I doubt Monsea will have a queen for very long after that."

After taking all of this in, Eustace then moved on to ask, still eyeing the wall, "How do I keep from believing what Leck says?"

"You," Edmund said, after a moment, "Will have to constantly remind yourself that he's lying, and of the monster he is. Pray that you always will have to remind yourself. If you don't, and become completely immune, well, Leck's Grace only stops working when you witness him hurting someone you love—he murdered Peter and Susan in front of me," He choked, and tried to cover it up with a coughing fit, "and as a result I no longer believe a syllable he says. It's a high price to pay for something you can't change, and just something that makes you miserable—because you know what actually goes on when Leck shuts doors. If you are completely immune, he'd have hurt someone—and with you, chances are, it'd be Jill." He probably should have added in _Or Lucy_, but he couldn't bring himself to say it, for fear that it would happen.

"Are you worried about the princess?" Eustace asked at this point, bringing up what Edmund did not want to discuss. "As a personal guest of Leck, don't you think that the only reason he'd make her stay would be that she's one of those girls he'd have an interest in?"

Edmund cringed. It was getting too uncomfortable. "I'm fairly convinced he's forgotten she's his guest. Or he's lost interest. If I can keep her away from him long enough, maybe he will genuinely forget. It's all I have to go with."

Eustace, being an over-practical sort of chap, really could think of ten million reasons Edmund was deluding himself; the maids still bringing Lucy's clothes and meals was the main one, but he could catch something in Edmund's voice that made him stop. Jill had asked him to keep an eye out for the way Edmund acted when it came to Lucy, and now everything just suddenly made sense.

"What else do I need to know?" Eustace asked.

Edmund proceeded to describe his lifestyle, being aware of Leck's true nature. How he could never talk to anyone about it, for fear of being hanged as a traitor against Leck. How he had to assume everyone was under Leck's control, unless he learned of someone else's knowledge by situation; how he could never tell anyone the truth, for fear that someone would go, under Leck's control, and tell. He kept on stressing how much he was counting on Eustace's confidence—the knowledge could be the death of the both them—and if anyone found out, he would know who let it slip, he mentioned not without an air of a threat within it.

He also stressed how tricky it was, to have the knowledge and be forced to act like there was nothing wrong, but the necessity of it. He had to pretend as though he believed every single thing the king said, and never let it slip that he didn't; and he showed him the exact blank face he must wear when Leck gave him orders.

"There is one more thing," Edmund said, once this was done.

"Another thing?" Eustace said, deflating even more.

"When anyone repeats what Leck says—his soldiers, servants, even if I were to repeat what he said, not believing it, it would still hold his power. The farther away it gets from him, the weaker his power becomes, but we usually hear it either from Leck himself, or with just one in-between, so then it's fairly strong."

"What—" Eustace began but was interrupted by the girls up overhead.

"Are you coming up?" They called, curious and maybe a little concerned, although they sounded as though they had been whispering together about something far less dire, the light sort of things that girls talk about. If it is somewhat irritating that they were able to do this whilst the boys discussed something so serious as their lives, and the dangers of keeping it, it must be reminded that they knew nothing about this at all.

"We'll be right there," Edmund called, and then said in a low voice to Eustace. "This can be your first test. If you can convince both Lucy and Jill (although Jill will be the harder of the two, as she is around you most of the time) that everything is all right; that you're perfectly content, better than content; ecstatic even since your Grace just presented itself, I'll know that I can trust you to pretend that you believe Leck's words. But, Eustace," he sighed; not wanting to threaten Eustace farther than he already had. "Remember that you're the only other person who knows that I know. If Leck finds out that I'm not under his influence, I'll know you told him, and even if you weren't under your own control. I know where to hit your head, and how hard, to wipe your entire memory. If you let it slip, before I am killed, you won't even remember how to spoon yourself breakfast. Now, shall we head up?"

Eustace exhaled nervously, "All right, then. Brilliant."

They climbed up the rope quickly, Eustace stumbled a few times, but as Edmund was used to doing physical exertions, climbing a rope really was nothing. They came into the sitting room, with the girls sitting on the sofa. Edmund cleared his throat, and threw a paperweight that had been sitting on the tea table into the hidden chamber; it hit a lever, releasing another boulder in the room. There was the same chafing noise as before, and without warning, the fireplace merged into one again, and the room was closed off forever. The flaming logs came back to the center; it looked exactly as it had before, aside from the golden shield resting on the rug. Lucy quickly put the shield back in its place, before returning to the sofa and fiddling with a clear cordial of a striking red liquid no one had seen before and the room went into silence.

Jill was the first to speak after this. "Well, Eustace," she said, somewhat glumly, "I suppose we ought to head out and tell someone in charge that your Grace has presented itself…"

"No," Eustace cut her off, flushing that perhaps he was a bit too jumpy. He would rather keep his memories, and he flashed a look to Edmund, who didn't even seem like he knew a thing; he looked perfectly content. "I don't want to go."

"Why?" Jill blinked.

Here was where Edmund cut in, being rather used to having to lie about things like this. "He thinks that the court won't want to use someone who can understand languages. He doesn't want to go back to his parents. After all, he's lived about thirteen years without them, he wouldn't even know them."

"Is that really what you're thinking?" Jill asked, looking at Eustace, hopefully.

He nodded, and Jill brightened. They just stood there, until Edmund suggested in a way that was neither insulting nor cruel, that the two leave, he said so Lucy could wash before supper. The two turned to leave, and before they left out the door, Lucy called out.

"Eustace! _Yech maeii der rechtich chosen." _Lucy said, using a normal volume, but speaking it as though it were an enormous secret, which, in all respects, it really was. "_Secht likki yech." _

Eustace blinked and said, "_Ein umcluricht. Bust der sammens _Edmund_ vor yech. Recht conprenst golalenth sie tor yech."_

Here, Lucy looked at Edmund and blushed. "_Vasse dunst __yech__ vorter?" _she asked, but by the time the question left her lips, both Eustace and Jill had left.

"What were you two on about?" Edmund asked, with a somewhat playful look on his face. It was rather amusing. Even looking at Lucy helped him forget, for a little bit, his prior conversation. The only thought on his mind concerning this being, "H_ow does she do it?"_

Lucy turned her head, "Oh, I told him that I think he made the right decision; by choosing Jill over his Grace." She smiled. "And, well, then I said that she likes him. After that, he said that he couldn't believe it; although I'm not sure why. Then he, well," she blushed again, "he said that you would have done the same for me. And that you talk a lot about me. What do you say?"

It was Edmund's turn to blush. "If I tell you that, you might as well just tell me everything you think about me."

"All right," Lucy agreed, and laughed lightly at Edmund's disbelieving stare. "I think you're stubborn as a mule, and too confusing for words. You seem like there's something that went on in your life that no one should ever witness; but I am glad that you don't seem to allow it to keep you depressed, especially recently. But, you're kind, you have a good sense of humor; you seem to care about others. When I watched you spar in the arena a little while back, I thought that it took my breath away. And it did. I can never tell what you think of me, and if I try to figure it out it gives me a headache. I think that you might like me, but I also think that you might be here out of duty. But, I know that I'm glad you're my guard, and that I see you every day—I know I think that. And I think that I like you very much."

She smiled again, and Edmund returned the gesture, rather dumbly, in complete disbelief. Lucy went on. "All right, your turn. What do you say about me?"

"Well, you don't really want to know what I say about you."

"Maybe you could just tell me what you think of me?" She said, eyes glistening hopefully.

"Well," Edmund said, "I'm not sure…how to word it. I'm not very good at putting my thoughts into words." Something came into his head, and before he could redirect his thought to something a little wiser to say, he had already spoken. "Do you think that I could show you?"

Lucy lowered her brow, "What do you mean?" she asked.

With this, Edmund took a step closer to her, and mustered up the audacity to grab her hand, while he tried to ignore the buzzing in his ears, and Lucy gasped slightly and said nervously, "Go ahead."

His head slowly came in, coming in closer to her face. Her breathing increased, and he was sure that she could hear his heart pounding. They were mere centimeters apart before Edmund suddenly stumbled backward. "Great skies," he whispered. "What's happening?"

"I.. I'm sorry," Lucy stammered.

"It's not you," Edmund said, shaking her head. "I shouldn't have…" he sighed. "you're a princess…I'm a weapon. There's no way…I can't be…emotionally involved with…anyone. But, I think it's too late for that. Wait…what am I saying? What happens when things go rummy?"

Lucy remained silent. He had all but literally said, "I do love you, but nothing can possibly happen because I'm Graced." This, more or less, made her want to scream at him. Couldn't he see what a terrible way it was to think like that—and, moreover, that she did not care a thing about that—and how it vexed her so? Particularly then.

Therefore, she said, "You enjoy things while you have them, and you don't focus on the bad." She knew this fairly well, it seemed to be the theme of her life. "And, what is more, you remember that we're all in between the paws of Aslan."

"I don't understand it when you talk like that any more than when you're speaking Old Narnian with Eustace."

Lucy frowned. "You know," she said slowly. "just because you live on the West side of the mountains, doesn't mean that Aslan wouldn't listen to you if you asked him to listen. He sang up Monsea, too."

XXXXXXX

King Leck watched the silver blade glisten underneath the water as the once clear liquid stained with red. He smiled to himself. The kitten had been relatively satisfying when he dragged the blade in a thin line down its stomach; the green eyes had widened, and it was breathing heavily, but of course it never stirred. It knew that it was better this way—that its king would never be fully satisfied unless it gave in, gave in without a thought.

Alas, however, sometimes it got tiresome for Leck. It was rather irritating to have the capability of everything, and to have so little in comparison. Although, this did not vex him. The opportunity to become a king had presented itself; and surely others would too; he had been granted something that seemed like an opportunity to spread eastward. Narnia seemed like quite the interesting place to venture to; the dryad had been an amusing exertion. However, she, just like the kitten, and the other animals and girls lately, something was off; it wasn't as pleasurable as it once was.

He had concluded that it was only that there wasn't enough blood. Even after he slit the kitten's throat, and drained it entirely, he felt as though it wasn't enough, and it didn't come quickly. There was a time when he used to wait weeks, even months before he finished the animals off, keeping them only just alive so he could continue to slice them with his knife.

The knife once again shone from washing away, and he heard a knocking at his door. A footman opened it and entered the room. "Your Majesty," he said, the same vacant look entering his eyes, "the faun, Tumnus, is here to speak with you, as you requested, for this week."

Leck nodded. "Yes, yes. Send him in."

He thought that it was about time to stop requiring his weekly meetings with the faun. The creature was annoyingly fussy, but incredibly easy to control, and he had learned much, and at this point, would only call on the faun if he needed more information. If the opportunity ever presented itself, Leck would be more than willing to suggest establishing himself in Narnia, beside Frank's throne; but with his supreme power, he would truly be the sole ruler of two countries. But, Leck wasn't going to go out looking for it; he was all about opportunity. He had time to accomplish anything; it wasn't as though there was anything stopping him at all. He was, after all, the most powerful human in the world.

If only, he thought, the Narnian princess hadn't been human. If Lucy had been a dryad or some kind of beardless dwarf, then Leck could have learned about the degree of his influence on Narnians in a more amusing exertion. Alas, that was not the opportunity granted to him. It was a pity, however; while Princess Lucy was not an ideal beauty, she had something in her, a frailness; fragileness that intrigued Leck so. He had never seen anything like it before; it was as though she was so strong, and yet the weakest person he had ever met. And she would be fifteen soon. That usually did not stop Leck, but there was no need to rush; he wanted to wait until the opportune moment to find out just how loudly the porcelain cracks when it hits the floor; rushing made everything less enjoyable. In the meantime, he had his serving maids and the girls who worked in the shelters to amuse himself with.

The faun bustled into the throne room at a much calmer manor than he had at the first of these meetings. Leck smiled to himself. He had thought it might be vexing to control Narnians—a difference race could hold much difference as he had learned in his youth—but it turned out to be less than challenging. Oh, it was true that sometimes Tumnus got a look on his face that suggested a confusion, or a feeling that something wasn't right, but one more sentence out of Leck's mouth and the faun's expression matched the blank and dumb look of the guards along the outer walls. Still, he was unsure about what the hesitation was, and it was best to repeat any orders the faun should have or any feelings or thoughts, just to be certain. Once Tumnus approached, Leck spoke as the faun's head dropped in a bow. "Welcome, my friend. Everything is well, I presume. You are comfortable and happy here. The Princess Lucy has never been more content," then he pause and considered.

He already had the knowledge that he had been curious of, and there was no more reason to keep the faun there. His eyes flicked to his newly washed knife. However, there was still the matter of the princess; interesting as she was, he had other things to concern himself with such as keeping Monsea under his thumb, and attempting to figure out why there was no longer the same joy in other people's pain. However, he was always looking for a new amusement. Perhaps little Princess Lucy was just the amusement he was looking for.

"Now," Leck said, "tell me how Princess Lucy is faring?"

Tumnus blinked hazily. "Why, she's never been more content."

"Yes, yes, of course." Leck waved his hand. "However, I have not seen her in the corridors. Does she stick to her chambers, or something of the sort?"

Nodding, Tumnus said, "Yes, it seems she enjoys the company of her guard most of the time—meaning, they seem to enjoy each other, your Majesty."

Leck's brows went up. "Edmund has gotten sweet on her, then?"

The faun gave a little gasp, "Of course he has! You're absolutely right. Oh, dear me! What am I to do? If King Frank and Queen Helena find out that she is being pursued—at all, really—but by such a scoundrel? It could very well be the death of her…I don't think she realizes how frail she is! But she knows that she can never…Oh, your Majesty, what am I to do?"

"Send Lucy on walks alone through this part of the castle." Leck said. "You want her to go. Make sure you tell her that she wants to go on daily walks alone through this part of the castle. This way she will spend less time with that guard of hers. However, remember, Tumnus; he is your guard forever. You pay him little mind, but you are wary of his intentions. Other than that, you trust my judgment. I am a friend. And you know that as long as you send the princess on a walk through this part of the castle daily, Edmund will cause her no harm. Am I clear?"

"Of course," Tumnus said, "your Majesty."

**A/N: Sorry if this chapter was a bit boring. Informatives and relationship building rarely is fun. But, hopefully next chapter will be better, and here comes the fantastic news: I AM DONE WITH EXAMS FOR TWELVE MORE WEEKS! And VDT is coming out in, like, seven-six-ish days! I'm so happy I could cry…so, please add to the happy and review! **


	12. A Stormy and Tired Night

**/!\ Warnings start with this chapter, and will occur at least twice more. This chapter contains implications of adult themes; I don't get overly specific, but the implications are definitely there, and so reader's discretion is advised. **

It didn't matter what Edmund said to persuade her otherwise, every day Lucy was dead set on going for a long walk through the corridors belonging exclusively to King Leck. Even when the snow melted away, and the spring finally made itself clear in the air, Lucy would not move her walks to the outdoors—but continued to walk inside, completely alone, driving Edmund rather mad with each day.

He would pace and wring his hands over the fact that _his_ Lucy—his charge, his person to protect—was off, more or less, getting ready to be attacked. He felt like a coward for not doing anything, but what could he do? If he attempted to follow Lucy, and intervene if anything happened, well, it would be an exact repeat of what had happened to Peter and Susan, aside from one of them being completely oblivious of anything.

After a while, Edmund honestly considered telling her; simply coming out and telling her what sort of monster King Leck was, and to watch herself. However, she would still be susceptible to his influence; not being particularly logical minded, she would be almost completely unable to remind herself of the truth while around Leck, as Lucy's mind was centered, so it seemed, on emotion. Therefore, she would give away the truth in an innocently devastating way, and there would be more blood spilled than just a kitten or a squirrel's.

To improvise, he handed her his dagger one day while she was heading out for her walk.

"What's this for?" she asked, blinking at the weapon.

"Just in case," Edmund said. "Please, just take it with you. Since you need to go alone, I am your guard, and you might as well have something to protect yourself with if you need to."

Lucy blinked, and wrinkled her brows, inwardly feeling the gray and golden fogs shift in the mind, the gray still highly overpowering the gold, as usual. "Why would I need to protect myself? I'll be fine, Edmund, this is my home…"

"Please." Edmund was almost begging, something completely new to him. "Just take it. Just in case. And keep it. You never know when you might need one."

Raising a brow, Lucy finally nodded and consented to do it. She went into her sleeping chamber, and grabbed a leather belt, the exact same one she had accidentally taken from the chamber behind the fireplace; the same one that fit her perfectly and had that queer vial on it. She tied the sheath to the belt and wore it on her hips. "All right," she said, heading to the door. "Well, I'll see you in a little bit, then."

"Are you sure I can't come with you?" he asked, knowing the answer.

"Yes, I'm sure" Lucy said, smiling sympathetically. "I can't explain it; I just really want to do this alone."

Edmund nodded, and proceeded to watch her go; dropping more and more into anxiety with every step she took.

As of late, Tumnus more or less ignored Edmund. The only reason the Graceling knew that Tumnus was even aware of his being there, was the occasional cold look from the faun. Edmund was fairly aware of why; Leck must have decided it was more beneficial to have the faun dislike him. Why the king just didn't take him out of the service, Edmund was unsure. It might be that he was playing games with him; which Edmund hoped was untrue. That would mean that Leck knew about Edmund's mental freedom, and in which case, his days were numbered. More likely, however, it was that it was simply more beneficial to Leck to use Tumnus's dislike of Edmund to get Lucy alone, and from there, Edmund could not think.

What was keeping him there? Simply because he was stuck in a lose-lose situation was no reason for him to sulk and make his mindset force him into a living hell. He had been living like that for a year, but it didn't just affect him anymore. He set his jaw and, without a single word to the faun who was now crocheting on the sofa, set out down the hallways after the little Narnian princess.

XXXXXXXXX

Springtime wasn't usually such a stormy season in Monsea (in fact, the country usually had very pleasant weather for storm clouds rarely rose over the mountains), which was why the night of Princess Lucy's fifteenth birthday was such a queer one. Rain had poured in buckets all day, the sky never leaving its greenish gray state as the wind whipped against the stones of the castle, threatening to take it down.

Edmund could hear it while he lay on the sofa that night. The gale hit against the walls, howling through the air, like starving wolves' baying, constantly, never ceasing. Pulling his blanket over his shoulder and turning over on the sofa, then he noticed that something seemed to be seeping under the door; a kind of fog, or perhaps a mist; and he blinked. He wasn't supposed to be seeing those; he was over it.

The fog, mist, whatever it was, seemed to gather in at the middle of the room. It meshed together and seemed to form two separate columns. From these murky columns, two humans appeared. One was immediately distinguishable as King Leck, and Edmund gritted his teeth, lowering his brow, confused. Confusion turned to fury when the second column grew shorter and turned into a young girl with long hair and sweet, innocent, utterly blank eyes. Lucy.

Leck had an arm on Lucy's wrist, and pulled her in, closer towards him. She was, more or less, on his feet by the time he stopped pulling. He took her hair and parted it onto one shoulder, rubbing his thumb on her neck, with a twisted grin on his face.

Edmund growled inside his throat; mentally daring Leck to keep his hands on her. Ten more seconds and he would lose it, and the tables would turn; and it would be Edmund spilling the blood. He was so furious he didn't even have time to register that it was a mist—and that he couldn't kill it.

Lucy stood there, dumb, blank; nothing to even indicate that she had a brain at all. Then, Leck took Lucy's wrist, and slowly pulled her sleeve upwards on her arm, and with that slowly took out his knife from its sheath.

Something indefinable, but far worse than hatred, welled up inside Edmund's stomach and heart. He instantly pulled his sword out of its own sheath, and was ready to jump up and tear the mist to shreds then and there.

"Edmund?"

Edmund blinked and turned, with a flash of lightning, he saw Lucy, pale and tussled, sitting by his feet. He looked back to the door, and saw no one there. He found that with the mere seconds he was awake, he was forgetting the nightmare, rapidly. In fact, he remembered he had had a nightmare, jolting awake with his sword in the air, but he couldn't remember at all what had happened. Swallowing slowly, he put the sword back inside the sheath and put it back on the floor beside him, and Lucy continued.

"I couldn't sleep," she choked, eyes glistening with moisture, although he could barely make it out through the flashes of lightning.

Sitting up, Edmund said into the darkness, "Let me guess, nightmares?" he asked, and then opened his mouth to say something else, but he was interrupted by the thunder rumbling nearby.

Lucy nodded slowly, and Edmund reached for the little table in the middle, and grabbed his flint, moving a candle closer in towards them, he lit it, and handed the glass candlestick to her.

"Do you know what time it is?" Edmund asked, after a few minutes of nothing but the pouring rain, thunder, and wicked winds.

Shaking her head, Lucy said, "No, not exactly. I think between three and four in the morning, though, last time the clock rang."

Edmund stared into the flame spluttering lowly in the candle, the wick was small so the light emanated through the candle at this time was inadequate to say the least; Lucy's face was still somewhat distinct, however. "That means you're fifteen now," Edmund said, sending her a half smile before retreating his eyes back to the flame. "What does it feel like to officially be an adult?"

"No different from being fourteen," Lucy said sleepily, running her fingers along the candle, as it dripped the wax on her fingers and hand; she winced, and then proceeded, "Did it feel any different when you turned fifteen?"

"Well, yeah," Edmund admitted, although that was, perhaps, because he had gotten rather drunk that night, not that he was going to tell Lucy that. He had been quite a different person two years before. He paused. "If you were still in Narnia, what do you think would happen today?"

"Nothing really," Lucy shifted on top of the blanket sprawled on the sofa. "There might be a cake, and maybe a new dress or paints or something; but that would be abut it."

Edmund frowned, her statement pretty much went away from every little opinion of royalty he had ever had; even the ones who had their sanity and weren't sadists. "But," he said slowly, "It _is _your fifteenth birthday. I would think that at least there would be a dinner or something for all of your potential suitors to meet you," he joked, although the idea bothered him a little.

To his surprise, Lucy actually laughed. "No. Even if anyone would have come for that reason, they would've been shown out immediately, but we've never led anyone on to think that I'd be available for that sort of thing."

Raising a brow, Edmund asked, "You don't wish to marry?"

"It's not that I don't think I'd want to," Lucy said, shrugging and starting to blush a bit, "Because, if I fall in love, I suppose that I'd like to. But, the problem is, that I can't."

"Sorry? I don't understand."

Lucy frowned. She had never even roughly considered romance for herself seriously, and because of her strong feelings for Edmund forced her to consider, she had to remember what her parents and personal maids had always reminded her of; back when it hadn't mattered. She had been told, quite a while ago, when she had first started changing, that she would have to grow and never marry. When she had asked why, as a young girl, her only reply was that a woman bleeds in childbirth. Lucy had furrowed her brows, and then asked innocently, why couldn't she marry, but simply never have children. The maid answering these questions for her sucked in her lips and told her quietly that she wouldn't likely live passed consummation. Lucy was not a stupid child, and the lady's tone indicated that she shouldn't speak further, even though at the time, she hadn't known what consummation was, let alone why it would be difficult for her to live through it. 

"Well," Lucy said, "I'd die if I had any children."

It felt a little like lying, Lucy thought, to tell him only half of the reason, and not the why. She felt a bit sick in doing it, but she kept herself quiet, and soon forgot about it all with Edmund's response.

"Well, I'd think," Edmund said, "that if it were me, I'd just love you, and never mind children of any kind. It'd just be you and me," he drifted off, and then came back completely, "if it were me."

"If it were you," Lucy began, "would you feel like you were settling for something?"

Confusedly, Edmund blinked. "No. Of course not. But, that doesn't matter. Lu, we've been over this before—"

"And I think it's a bad excuse." Lucy said, crossing her arms at her chest. It was nearly as bad as complaining that marrying someone would make you someone different than who you are and take away all of your freedom. "There are reasons, but your Grace and social statuses have absolutely nothing to do with any of them. Mum wasn't a princess before she married Father."

"I think we're both in over our heads," Edmund muddled silently.

"Then maybe we should learn to swim," Lucy said, and then, without any warning, began to laugh; and Edmund joined her. They couldn't help it; they were too tired, it just struck them as humorous.

Trying to suppress his bouts of laughter from getting so loud as to wake the slumbering Tumnus in the next room over, Edmund murmured, "I'm beginning to think that we're a bit more tired than we thought."

Still laughing, Lucy stood from the sofa, putting the candle down onto the table, and held her hands out to her guard. "Do you want to dance?" she asked; it had simply seemed like a fun idea to her at three in the morning. She knew she was acting off, because of tiredness, but she couldn't stop herself.

Blinking, Edmund murmured, "With you?"

Lucy nodded, "Come on; dance with me, Edmund."

Shrinking away, Edmund muttered, "I can't. Don't know how. How about you find someone Graced with it?"

Lucy frowned. "You know, you're more than just a Grace. I know you don't seem to think that; no one around here seems to think that. But, I can't possibly see how it could be true. But, people don't seem to care much about anything Gracelings can do, other than your Grace. Even other Gracelings. Your Grace is what came easily, and that's all you're asked to do, so all of you just got into this mindset that you don't give any effort to anything else because you won't be perfect at it."

Returning the frown, Edmund stood and grabbed Lucy's hands, and they stared at each other in the shadowy light the candle gave. Lightning flashed once more, and thunder must have rolled immediately, for the storm was so nearby, but neither noticed; their ears were ringing, and they were very easily lost in time—even the rain stopped in its tracks.

It was then that Edmund took the initiative; without warning, the Graceling began to sway with his arms and body from side to side in a manor that could hardly be described as dancing in any part of the world. He got the reaction he was looking for, for Lucy laughed and joined in. The two then swiveled their feet on the wood, twisting their torsos and pulling on each other's arms to make it fluid; they stretched out their arms and came back in together, walking in a circle as they went. Twirling both of each other meanwhile. Neither one of the two were good dancers, but that did not matter.

This did not last long, however. At last, Edmund brought Lucy in to a traditional waltz stance, though not as rigid and their hands slowly drifted downward, and her chin rested on his shoulder while they continued to sway. She closed her eyes; at long last, things had finally gotten to her at the point where it mattered dearly. She had just, to put it simply, hit a wall.

The realization that she loved Edmund was an old one; in fact, she had known it for a very long time, but the realization that she was _in_ love with him was new and made her apprehensive. People who didn't know her very well would sometimes joke about the time she would fall in love; something that always turned King Frank purple in the face. She had never thought much about it, aside from when she was forced to during her parents' lectures about how she would not be able to marry.

She wouldn't have been even thinking about it then, if not for their previous conversation. Two people could be in love without having to marry or do anything about it, couldn't they? Granted, the thought of Tumnus waking up and wrenching them apart seemed more painful than any cut or bruise. It did not matter much, however, she just wanted to stay there.

The flame, which was burning low in the candle, suddenly went out, and the room was painted in total darkness. The rain still pelted the window and the wind whipped around the walls. Lucy removed her chin from Edmund's shoulder, thinking to relight the candle, but Edmund didn't make any effort to change position; he wasn't intending to keep her there against her will, of course, but he still stood there, with one hand on her waist, and the other intertwined in her fingers.

In his mind, things were swarming. He didn't know what to think, or what to do. He was standing there in the dark with Lucy. Time was still stopped, in his mind, the rain was still in the air, and although lightning flashed, it meant little to nothing, for he could see her face in his mind. He wanted it to be a separate world; he wanted noting to exist outside of him and Lucy; he wanted the rest of the world to be fiction, a bad bedtime story, or a haunting campfire tale.

This is the fiction, Edmund thought. He was making himself believe that things were happening that weren't, that couldn't. He couldn't have relationships, not real ones. He was setting himself up for hell all over again by simply having friendships; he couldn't imagine what he was setting himself up for by going in over his head. It would be just like Peter and Susan all over again; only, he couldn't help but think, worse, if that was even possible.

Even as he was thinking this, his body betrayed himself. His head craned downward, and before he knew it, their lips met, if only for a half a second. Adrenaline surged through both of their bodies; it was obvious that there would be no sleep that night. With another outside flash of light, Edmund saw the smile on Lucy, as she bit her lip.

Without thinking, both of their minds in a daze, they kissed again. This time, it was much slower, more pent up emotion coming through, as they lingered on the other's lips.

His brain was buzzing. Part of it told him that this wasn't supposed to be happening. He was her guard. He was the one who was supposed to protect her, not kiss her. In a time like this, which was any time in Monsea, it wasn't the time to lose yourself into emotion. That was the worst place one could be! He had to stop himself from it. Yet, his mind took a surprising twist. Her lips were soft and sweet. Not to mention she was rather good at it. He wanted to have this; at least for a little while. Tiredness and emotion took their toll, and every logical part of his brain shut down.

Lucy retreated, pulling away his mouth slowly; he dazedly trailed after her, trying to keep his breath on hers, before standing up straight once again.

Flushed and grinning, Lucy sighed and tucked her hair behind her ear, suddenly feeling a bit shy. "Well…" she said.

"Erm," Edmund mumbled, not quite knowing what to say, after all what would one say at a time like that? "Happy birthday, Lu."

**A/N: Please review on your way out! **


	13. Of Things Almost Told and Fears

**A/N: This is probably my last fanfiction update of 2010! Along with that, his is my last chapter with the pen name VampyKaee23. I've grown tired of the name, and so, on January 1****st****, 2011 my new pen name will be "****An Cathal Toirmisce," all of my stories will stay the same and whatnot, I'll just be listed under a new name. **

To put it simply, Edmund didn't know what to do about the entire situation. Only just a year before, he might have bragged about having kissed the princess. He surely would have brought it up to those boys who had never kissed a girl before purely for spite, and in that case, he might have lied and added in mentions of her tongue—although he truthfully had no idea what that felt like. (In reality, Edmund was not so bad as he seemed to think he was, not nearly as spiteful or beastly, but who can blame him for a fogged memory?) If this had all happened the year before, Peter surely would have chased him down and made him feel absolutely rotten for being a lying little beast like that. As it was, Edmund thought that he should feel absolutely rotten for even kissing her in the first place, as it was, he didn't.

He did not know why he didn't feel like anything was wrong, since he should have. After all, nothing about any of it was right. To lie in bed and think about it was one thing, to actually put it into play and do it was another entirely. The phrase "in over his head," would not even suffice for all of this He did not know what to do.

"Say, Edmund?" Lucy said one afternoon, while the spring sunlight was pouring in from the window behind her. "Would you like to go on a walk with me?"

Edmund stared. Wasn't she supposed to go on her walk alone? Did this mean that she was breaking free from Leck's hold? Was there another way to break free, separate from the unjust way he had been awoken? It was frightfully hopeful, but could loving someone weaken Leck's influence? After all, Edmund had no idea about how Peter and Susan had discovered Leck's true nature. It would make sense. Of course, if he were to go with this theory; he would be assuming that Lucy loved him; and wasn't merely overtired when she let him kiss her. It was like he was holding a vase, full of water, and it was slippery and overlarge in his hands; but more than anything, he had to keep his hope up, and the vase in his hands.

To Lucy's question, however, Edmund instantly nodded dumbly and walked out of the chambers, who called to Tumnus that they would be around twenty minutes or so and be back by supper. The faun nodded to Lucy, but completely ignored Edmund, as was usual in those days.

When they got to the corridor outside of their room, Edmund began to turn in the direction of Leck's halls, only to have Lucy stop him quickly.

"Where are you going? The courtyard is in the other direction, isn't it?"

To begin with, no actually, it was in a completely different direction than she was pointing. Why couldn't girls carry maps in their heads? However, that wasn't the little cue that was tearing in Edmund's brain. He spoke slowly, trying to keep the hope that had grown in his chest. "I thought you liked walking in Leck's corridors better?"

Lucy blinked. "What? When do I do that?"

"Every day," Edmund said, dejectedly. It was futile anyhow. Bang went his theory of an alternate way to erase Leck's power. He tried to shrug it off; his thoughts had been silly and girlish anyhow.

Silly and girlish though it had been, the realization, when it his him, made him feel as though he had dropped that vase, and when it hit the floor, it exploded and cut his hands with a million little shards. The pain welled when he realized something. Lucy didn't remember anything. That could mean that any number of possibilities had happened; and none of them were good. Yes, it was true that he would occasionally follow Lucy on her walks, but he would stay out of the corridor, for danger of being seen, and simply listen for the slightest sound of movement.

"Lucy," Edmund said, scarcely noticing that they had begun walking and had now reached the outdoor lawn. The spring air hit him like something musty that had been kept up in a cellar for years, and the wind did not help it. "Do you remember anything about your walks? Anything at all?"

"What walks?" Lucy asked confusedly, cocking her brow.

"Great skies, Lucy, you go on them every day!" He knew he shouldn't be angry with her. There was no reason to be angry. It wasn't her fault. However, he needed someone to be angry with, and although unjust, Lucy was the only real candidate. One couldn't be angry with a devil for being a devil, could they? It seemed queer. Besides, there was really no time for anger, amongst all the fear and trickery. And yet, at that moment he needed something. For a minute, he thought it was anger. He thought he needed to be angry, and to yell and to argue, but then, when Lucy replied to him, he realized that he didn't even want to be angry. Not anymore.

"I am sorry," Lucy said after a moment. "I didn't mean to make you angry. I have no idea what you're talking about, but I think it's my fault that I don't. I'm sorry. My memory's been terrible lately."

"You mean you know that you're forgetting things?"

Lucy sighed. "Well, yes. I've been forgetting things since I first got here…oh, how long ago was it? I can't even seem to remember how long it's been since I was last in Narnia."

It was a bit disturbing how truly brainwashed Lucy proved to be at times, and yet, how she did not seem to be. Her eyes were bright and never hazy; and she was, as always, still herself, and seemed to know exactly what she was saying all the time, however untrue that really was.

That's what made it so hard—the way she seemed to have her own control. Lucy didn't act like the others, and therefore, Edmund knew that if he tried, he would be able to convince himself that she, just like him, knew everything. And, great skies, he wanted to convince himself of that.

However, he cared too much about her to fool himself. He couldn't bear to imagine Lucy's ending at all similar to any of Leck's serving maids. He knew how they all turned out—with every one of them, it was the same story. The more he thought about it, the less he wanted to, and so, he tried and silence the scenario coming to life in the recesses of his brain.

With that, the idea hatched in Edmund's brain to simply keep Lucy away from the castle all day; if she was too tired to take her walk, however upset about it she might be, she would not, unless Leck had said that she ought to take the walks every day under every circumstance. It was risky, but the only plan Edmund had.

He didn't know how he was going to detain her for the entire day, much less how he was going to tire her enough so that she wouldn't want to go walking once she got back.

Perhaps a hike up a mountain would do it, it could easily turn into an overnight trip if they went too far up the mountain, but it might be a good idea. It would still be rather snowy up there, but the cold never seemed to bother Lucy much before.

However, just as he began to think about this, thunder cracked in the air, and with its rolling presence, came gray storm clouds. Edmund wrinkled his own brow; Monsea was never so stormy, even in the spring. What a strange year it was.

"Should we turn back now?" Edmund suggested, but Lucy shook her head.

"No; let's stay out a little while," she suggested, and so, they continued walking. After a minute or so passed, underneath the gray storm clouds, Lucy coughed slightly, and asked, "Can I ask you something?"

"Something else?" Edmund said, pretending to be irritated, but a smile calling his bluff. "Why not?"

"The other night…when we kissed. Did you…could we…were you as surprised as I was?"

Edmund laughed a little, and then swallowed his amusement, "I suppose you could say that. Though, I wouldn't say surprised as much as nervous."

"You were nervous?" Lucy blinked.

Edmund nodded, and said, "Who wouldn't be? Just because I wanted to kiss you doesn't mean you wanted me to.. And if you wouldn't…well, Lu, I don't know. I can't think about it."

"Ed, I…" Lucy started to speak, but just then a single drop of water hit Lucy on the nose. She looked upward as hundreds more of these raindrops fell from the clouds and onto their skin, hair, and clothes. Lucy looked upward into Edmund's amber and green eyes, halfway waiting for him to take them back indoors.

"You what?" Edmund continued, shoving the thoughts of going back inside away, into the back of both their minds. Neither of them cared that they were getting drenched, with one of his hands on her waist and the other on her hand, and her hand intertwined with his on the opposite resting on his elbow. Once again, nothing else was real.

"I think I love you."

That was all Edmund needed to hear. He wanted to keep a level head, but any hope of doing that had gone out the window when they were introduced, he saw that now. She did something to him; she made it unable to think. She was like some sort of blinding light that went directly into him and paralyzed any sort of rational thought, whenever they were alone. She was an addiction he was unwilling to break, even though the consequences, he knew, could be dire; he couldn't force himself to think about it.

He kissed her again, slowly taking her lips into his, feeling how they matched. They were standing close, with raindrops falling on their faces between them, as they kissed again, and again. Edmund nipped at her lower lip, and Lucy jolted slightly at the more zealous feeling.

"Edmund?" Lucy asked at one point, when his lips had broken from her.

"What is it?"

Lucy then proceeded to playfully tap Edmund on his chest. Grinning, she said, "Try and catch me."

Before he could give her any sort of response whatsoever, Lucy took off running in deeper into the lawn. And thus, Edmund followed. Kicking up mud, the rain soaking entirely through their clothes and skin, right to the bone, and they laughed.

Lucy slipped on the muddy grass, and almost fell on the rocks, but as usual, Edmund was there to catch her. He always was. Even when nothing was wrong, because, in Lucy's eyes, nothing could ever get better, but Edmund was there.

Lightning flashed. Then, Edmund, still having hold on her waist from catching her, said, "I think we should probably head in now."

"I suppose you're right."

"I'll tell you what, Lu," Edmund said, a smile playing on his lips. "Last one inside has to make hot chocolate for the other. Do we have a deal?"

Lucy gave no immediate response, but took off for the entrance of the castle. Edmund gave her a few seconds lead, and then took off after her. Running together, they were almost tied, neck and neck, and once they entered the building again, escaping the rain, Edmund swung Lucy around once more, water splaying on the ground from her hair and dress. And both of them were freely laughing, once again.

"Edmund?" Lucy said, slowly, sobering. "I have to tell you something…"

She didn't want to lie to him anymore. It was true that she was happy with Edmund, the way things were, but the fact that he didn't know about her disease; it felt like lying. It always had. But, she felt at this point, that not only would it be lying, but it would be close to infidelity if she kept her hemophilia secret from him anymore.

"What is it?" Edmund's brow furrowed at her sudden seriousness.

"I'm si…" she began, but no, that didn't sound right. Sick wasn't quite the right word was it? How could someone be sick their entire lives? "I have hem…" That didn't sound right either; after all, would he know what hemophilia was? Should she explain what it was, rather than give the name? "My bl—"

"What's all this, then?" A sudden voice sounded from behind them. Edmund wanted to vomit at Lucy's instant attention directed towards the speaker.

"Your Majesty," Lucy said, turning round to face none other than King Leck.

Leck's single visible eyebrow lifted at the sight of the Narnian princess, and he instantly called for a passing maid to send towels to them. "Caught in the storm, now were you?"

Blinking, Lucy nodded slowly, "It seems so, your Majesty."

Turning to Edmund, Leck said, "And how is it that you permitted her to be out in such conditions?"

Trying to keep a blank expression on his own face, and failing rather fantastically, Edmund said, "I do believe she wanted to stay out of doors for a while."

Lucy furrowed her brows, as though it was difficult for her to remember, "Yes," she said slowly, "I think he's right."

"Oh?" Leck said, putting a hand to his chin, his eye still scaling over Lucy, "And what sort of entertainment would make you wish to be outside in the rain?"

"We were…" Lucy said, slowly, looking back at Edmund, who gave her such a look that, even though she hadn't the slightest clue why he seemed so alarmed, it sent a shiver down her own spine, "nothing …I-I'm not sure."

"Well, then. No matter." Leck spoke slowly, as though he was thinking.

Edmund stood beside Lucy, keeping his eyes on the puddles of water on the marble floors; using every method of self-restraint he knew to keep from pulling his sword out at the Monsean king. He wanted to take his sword and slash through Leck four times at least; the first would be for Susan, the second for Peter, the third for anyone else that he had hurt throughout his life, and the last? The last would be for Leck even starting to look at Lucy like that.

Lucy didn't notice the sickened look on her guard's face; she was busying herself with talking with her king, and steadying the fogs welling up in her brain. The gold was hardly there anymore. Although, mere wisps of it slinked around between the gray, and it hurt her head, but she wanted to gold to fill in her brain; even if it meant a worsened headache.

Leck was still speaking. "Now, Lucy, I do believe I've missed your birthday, haven't I? Such a sad thing, but I was busy, and I'm sure that your birthday was unsatisfactory otherwise."

The king stepped forward, and put his hand on Lucy's cheek, dragging his thumb backwards. Edmund had to bite himself and stuff his hands into fists to keep from doing something stupid. Unfortunately, his efforts were all too noticeable.

As Lucy paused, Edmund held his breath. Then, she spoke. "Yes."

Edmund couldn't handle it. He felt his eyes burn. He couldn't cry; he never cried. It was too outward of a way to show his freedom. No matter how he cursed in his brain, or screamed inwardly, he could not allow himself to cry. However, once again, his body betrayed himself, and a single damn tear escaped from his eye.

"Now," Leck continued, "I suppose we ought to make up for this. Tomorrow evening, you will meet me in my chambers alone."

Lucy nodded, and Edmund proceeded to do the stupidest thing he had ever done in his life before. He stepped forward, grabbing Lucy's elbow, and said, "Come on. We promised Tumnus you'd get back quickly."

"Did we?" Lucy asked, trying to stay put. "Well, I know that he'd understand that we were speaking to the King…"

"No," Edmund said, perhaps a bit too forcefully. "Besides, your drenched. You'll catch a cold out here. Let's go and get you into something dry."

:"I'm not so fragile that I can't…"

"Please. Lucy, please. Just…_trust me._"

Lucy bit her lip, and although obviously confused as anything as she slowly nodded. "All right." She said, "Excuse us, your Majesty. If you don't mind, I think we should best be off…"

Leck's eye was still locked onto Lucy, even as Edmund ushered her away. Out of the corner of his eye, Edmund noticed the king, and instantly felt uncomfortable. He had seen that look on Leck's face before. But that last time it had been exactly like that, it had been directed towards Susan, and she had not gotten out unscathed.

XXXXXXX

"Won't you just tell me what I did wrong?" Lucy pleaded with Edmund later that night, while Tumnus measured her for a sort of new sash he was planning to knit for her.

Edmund shrugged slightly and moved a rag along his sword, as he continued to polish it, as usual for every night. "What makes you think that you've done anything wrong?"

"Because I know you," Lucy began. "And I know what you're like when you're upset. I just don't know what I did."

"You'll never know!" Edmund finally let go. "Even if I up and tell you everything, you'll forget and you'll be just as confused as before. And nothing will ever help. There's no way to win."

"Win what?" Lucy asked, stepping forward. "By the Lion, it's like you speak another language sometimes."

"You haven't the slightest idea," Edmund mumbled in response, glumly.

Tumnus, of course, frowned but said nothing about the exchange.


	14. Bleed For Him

**/!\ This chapter contains some dark adult themes. I tried to water it down so it's not entirely obvious, nevertheless; reader's discretion is advised. Special thanks to my friend Natalie for so, so much help with this chapter! This thing would be so messed up if not for her—she helped me check for content and choose what phrases to strike to keep from getting (herm) too _blatant_. Not only that, but she also helped me out by giving me one of the little exchanges in dialogue, so yeah, Natalie pretty much rocks.**

There had been no sleep for Edmund that night. He merely crossed his arms and lay back on the pillows, his eyes nowhere near closing for even a moment. What could he do? He was at a loss. Of course he was; strategy was a part of his Grace, and when he needed it most, it refused to help him. Fantastic. Typical.

He halfway wished that Lucy would have just as difficult time sleeping that night as he was, and that she would com to him. If she had, he would have sat beside her, and he would have warned her. He would have. He would've held her close and told her of every last detail. It did not matter any longer if, on accident, she were to reveal his secret. If he died, if he were killed; well, that would be the end of him. Kill him, maim him and torture him, he did not care. However, he vowed inwardly, lay a hand on Lucy, and that would be the very end of everything. If Leck actually went through with it, if Leck actually touched her, well, Edmund knew that it was the last thing the king would ever do; for the young Graceling would kill him.

With these thoughts, Edmund passed the night, watching the creamy light from the moon move along the floors, and when that disappeared, he didn't move from where he was lying as the white light traded in for the warmer colors of sunlight. He hated it. It seemed to him as though even nature chose to mock him. It was to be a warm and sunny morning on the day that his life was, more likely than not, going to end. It only would have been fitting if the sun had rose black—or not at all.

For the majority of the morning, he hovered over Lucy far more than he had ever been before, making sure she was in eyeshot and earshot at all times. She did verbalize brief irritation at one point, but that was the least of his worries. And then, just like that, she disappeared. Off on another one of her stupid walks, and he hadn't even noticed.

However, it was not the time for Edmund to hit himself over the head for his stupid mistakes. It was the time to stop himself from making any more of them, not the time to wallow in self-pity about how he could not save her. It was the time to actually do something about it. He was a fighter; surely, he would be able to do something.

The day before, Leck had given off every sign of having the wrong sort of intentions for the Narnian princess. As sure as the sun rose that morning, Edmund was sure the king was going to try. This was where the Graceling made his final decision.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Lucy shuffled her feet along the rich rugs through the familiar corridors towards Leck's chambers. Something had been wrong with Edmund ever since the day before, but she could not figure it out. Why wouldn't he just tell her what was amiss? He said that she would not understand, but how could he possibly know that? If he just told her what was wrong, maybe she would understand, and if not, then she would certainly try.

She felt foolish. He must think her stupid; he had nearly called her as such once before. But that was a long time ago, she thought. He could be so frustrating sometimes and then one minute later, he could be so sweet to her, kissing her mouth and acting as though they were the only two people in existence. It was so confusing, not to mention the fog that had manifested itself so often that she could not always tell when it was there. Always gray, and only with small specks of gold, which brought the most annoying headaches.

Her steps were lighter that day, Lucy thought pleasantly, thinking that perhaps this new dress the seamstress brought her was lighter weight and therefore much more accommodating. It was then that she realized she had left her belt in her rooms. That was queer, so she realized, as she had made a habit of taking it with her everywhere. She hadn't been without the dagger Edmund gave her, and that queer red vial in the longest time. There was no reason for her to keep it with her, though, she knew. She would not need the dagger there; she was safe; it was her home.

Without any sort of warning, a rich door of oak incrusted with some sort of precious metal swung open, and behind it, stood King Leck.

Lucy smiled at her friend and king. "Why, hullo, your Majesty." she said smiling, not having quite expected to meet the king, even though they were in his personal corridors. She remembered that she had arrangements to meet with the king in the evening, but it was still early, and she wondered if he would simply send her on her way until then.

Leck nodded to the Narnian princess, and opened the door farther. "Won't you come in, Lucy? You will come in and sit down."

Obliging to the king's request—which Lucy found no queerer than a friendly invitation to tea—she stepped into Leck's personal chambers for the first time. It was so different from the other chambers throughout the castle! All of the walls were entirely bare, not a single tapestry decorated them, and the floors made of cut stone without a rug or friendly feature to them. There was not a fireplace, but rather, what seemed to be a partially closed furnace, with a hot fire going inside, giving the room what light it could, as the only window was small, shut tight and covered with a thick curtain. There was, however, an incredibly wide sofa, so wide that it could in fact serve double for a bed. This did not seem so bizarre—as a king may wish to spend a night or two alone, looking through decrees and not have time to leave a room to retire. However, there was not a bookshelf or anything of the sort in sight, nor even a desk. There was, however, a long table lined with what proved to be dozens of polished knives of different sharpness and styles.

There were shining daggers; similar to the one Edmund gave Lucy to keep on her person, long thin blades, and blunt thick ones. Dirks, ear daggers, baselards, trench knives, roundel daggers; every sort of consistency and type, it even appeared as though a meat cleaver sat on the far end of the table.

Lucy sat on the edge of the sofa, noticing for a brief moment, a lining of gold that pricked through the gray fog that, frankly, she hadn't even noticed was there up until that moment. Her attention was suddenly drawn to a stain on that soft velvet sofa. She couldn't guess what it actually was, but a queer feeling in her gut, and this feeling she tried to silence, told her it was not wine.

Something was wrong. And with this thought, her head was suddenly reeling, and she wanted to grip it and, more or less, scream out of pain that suddenly greeted her brain. It honestly felt as though there was a parasite that wanted more than anything to get out of her head.

She was in such a pain, that she scarcely noticed when the king turned round and walked into the room, moving towards his long table with the knives. "You look troubled," Leck said absently. "There is no need. You are perfectly content. There is absolutely nothing wrong."

Lucy relaxed. Her head was still sore from the fogs, both of which seemed to be more plentiful than before; even the gray, which swirled together, almost in a black wall, but it no longer bothered her. In fact, it was nothing more than irksome. "Of course. You're right, your Majesty."

Leck moved his knives around on the table, inspecting each one closely, polishing a few of the blades with a rag, and holding them up, with an intrigued look on his face. Lucy watched as he picked up a blade that she recognized from history lessons as a misericord, a narrow blade, often used to give the final deathblow to a wounded knight, as it was so narrow it could reach between gaps in the armor, and even the tinier gaps in chain mail. It wouldn't take much to draw the conclusion that Lucy had loathed learning about it.

"How are you enjoying your life here?" Leck asked, looking closely at the misericord.

"Well," Lucy said, as a second streak of golden fog shot through her brain suddenly. "Yes, I like it fine. I'm content and happy here, it's only that…"

Leck seemed surprised. "Only that what?"

"Erm," Lucy said slowly. She didn't want Leck to be insulted, after everything he did to ensure her comfort, "I do miss Narnia a lot, sometimes. And I never get letters from home, and it makes me wonder how my family is doing…"

"We're your family now." Leck said on even breath. "Haven't we been hospitable enough to you, Princess?"

Lucy almost gasped, "Oh, of course! You've been more than hospitable! You've been nothing but a friend, and a wonderful host! Why, now that I think about it, I don't even miss Narnia at all. It was never really a true home to me anyhow."

Leck's voice brought the princess out of her ranting. "And I trust you are comfortable in your quarters?"

"Why would I be anything else?" Lucy blinked. "I am perfectly content."

"There is absolutely nothing that makes you feel discontented; or, perhaps, uncomfortable? What about that guard of yours? Are you at ease with him? Your Master Tumnus feels quite contrary to him."

"Edmund?" Lucy paused. She was comfortable with him, wasn't she? She had memories of her and Edmund, and when he came to mind, they were kissing. She never would have let him kiss her if she did not trust him, and if her memory served her correctly, she enjoyed it. The first word in her head was love; she loved Edmund, didn't she? And, yet, just so suddenly, something about it seemed strange. Something told her that she knew Tumnus felt contrary to Edmund, but something seemed as though, she ought to as well. It was queer, and she could not place it. But, more than anything, she had a strong feeling in her stomach that she cared about Edmund, that she trusted him. "I-I believe that I am comfortable with Edmund. Yes. I am."

At this point, Leck moved towards Lucy slowly. Sitting down besides the Narnian princess, the king sheathed the misericord into his belt. "You are so anxious," he said, giving a half grin, "You will relax, Princess."

Had she been anxious? Lucy had not realized this before King Leck had so kindly told her as such. With this realization, she relaxed and loosened her shoulders. She had been up in arms, now hadn't she? It was so awfully kind of Leck to ease her anxiety.

The fogs seemed great, both of them, gold and gray, inside her skull. Battling like two dumb beasts over a scrap of meat, they moved, and Lucy could scarcely think, let alone take consciousness of her surroundings when Leck's fingers started fiddling with her sleeve.

"You must remember, Lucy," Leck said, after a moment of silence, moving Lucy's hair from one shoulder to the other, "that I am always the first person you trust—your first confidant. I am your king, and you trust me and my discretion before anything else."

A little piece of the gray fog attempted to snuff out a bolt of the gold, and they wound and wrapped around each other, trying to smother the other, and choke it. Of course she ought to trust her king before anything, she thought, and then a shiver ran up her spine. No, first ought to come Aslan. If something her king said interfered with something Aslan said, she should listen to Aslan. Shouldn't she? Then again, Aslan was so far away, and King Leck was so near. No! What was she thinking? Her temples began to throb once more, and Lucy could to nothing but nod dumbly.

"And what is more, sometimes favors, and gifts, all good things, may seem as though they are, shall we say, wrong. Painful." Leck said, that queer grin still playing at his lips. "But although it may hurt, it is all for the good, at the very end of it. And, of course, remember, my dear, it is not unnatural. Nothing nature can make is unnatural. Even, perhaps, if you may not realize…and I am trying to make you realize. I am only looking to do what is a chivalrous and courageous act…and for you."

Something again pricked in Lucy's spine, and in a moment the golden fog seemed to brighten. "I-I don't know." Lucy began, taking Leck's hand off her waist, halfway wondering how it had gotten there in the first place.

At this moment, Edmund felt an itching coldness in the pit of his stomach, like a coating of ice forming there. Something was wrong with Lucy; he could sense it. No matter what the cost, he was going to save Lucy. Too many people had been killed already, it was a shame that it took him this much to bring him out of his cowardice to actually do something about it. He had to reverse the injustice, if he could.

However, what could he do about it? The fact that the climax of his life seemed so near was strange to him. As it did not seem so like it should be there. Alas, there it was, and he had to act quickly. And as soon as he possibly could, Edmund slunk out, without a word, off to find Queen Ashen.

There was a secret passageway between the two sides of the castle, and could take you from the wing he shared with Lucy to the royal family's' corridors in a matter of minutes. It hadn't been used in years, however, as he had only learned about it in overhearing a conversation between Peter and Susan about escape routes, and they had never used it. Edmund was not even sure if it was safe, but he had to try. He moved the bust of an old Monsean king, long before the corruption of Leck's time, and the marble slid over a lever of sorts. An enormous old bookcase slid over just as noisily as when the fireplace had split in two. Grabbing a torch off the wall, Edmund set off down the tunnel revealed behind the bookcase.

With every step, he was getting closer. Closer to whichever nightmare was to greet him. Either Lucy cut up and bleeding on the floor alone, or Lucy flat on her back and Leck there. The two options for what became of the girls; every single one of them who ever entered Leck's chambers unaccompanied, and both thoughts made a unique sort of bloodlust rack up inside Edmund, but of course, this bloodlust was exclusive for Leck. Just because he was Graced didn't mean he was a monster.

Meanwhile, Lucy was attempting to still the ill feeling welling up inside of her stomach, for some reason, she felt rather uncomfortable. She didn't understand what was amiss; perhaps if the fogs in her skull would calm down, she would be able to understand.

Leck had moved in closer in the last minute or so, and now he reached out to her, his other hand having found its way back to her waist.

"Please…don't," and she began to inch away from her king, blinking, trying to shake away the fogs.

Leck's face had the same sort of dumb look on it that a small child has when they loose at a game they were quite used to winning. However, he cooed, "If you are unsure, perhaps I ought to help you understand. Won't you come and sit with me?"

Lucy began to nod, slowly, unsurely, and move closer once more to him, but in a moment, her head stopped swarming, and although the gray fog still battled, the gold overcame it. In that brief second, her mind filled with the gold, and it no longer seemed fogged—simply a pure golden light. Finally she saw with understanding what was going on. She was sitting on the sofa, Leck was far too close to her; and they were alone.

Frightened, Lucy cried out, "Stop it!" and she pulled back.

With the sudden movement, she was greeted with a pain like a needle jabbing at her shoulder at the same moment a noise louder than it was seemed to well up in her ears. It sounded just like a dog's bay. There were no dogs in the room, were there?

Why did her shoulder suddenly feel so sticky and wet?

She blinked and it all came together. The dog's bay had actually been the sleeve of her dress ripping, leaving her sleeve and a good-sized portion of the front of her dress in the hand of a confused-looking Leck. Her bare shoulder was covered in her own blood. More and more, it spurted out like a waterfall of red; the smell of iron filled the room. She clutched at the darkest part of the field of red that was her shoulder, supposing that was where the cut was. Squeezing she bit her lip, and prayed it to stop. Tears welled up in Lucy's eyes, because of the pain, and she began to feel dizzy and sick. She could almost feel her breakfast coming up from her throat, as the ground moved beneath her. Though the blurry tears she looked slightly upwards only to see the dark figure of Leck stepping in closer towards her.

Just as this was happening, Edmund ran through the corridors, with Queen Ashen at his heels. He hadn't told the flustered queen precisely what was amiss, only that she was required in her husband's chambers as soon as possible, and that it was of the utmost urgency.

He knew that, with Ashen around, Leck would stop whatever he was doing, however far he had progressed. Edmund was not sure why—perhaps Queen Ashen had a bit more of her brain than some of the others, or perhaps Leck did not wish to risk his wife discovering what sort of monster he truly was through shock. All he knew was that walking in with Ashen had saved someone before, and perhaps it would work again.

He just prayed that he was not too late. His boots hit the polished floors, echoing loudly in his ears, and Ashen's quick ladylike steps behind him sounding like little explosions chasing him down.

By the time he reached the door, his breath was quivering. Quickly, he thought once more of any sort of powerful, mystical being, anything at all, from elemental gods to glittering stars, and yes, for a moment, even of golden lions, and he begged anything that would listen for a moment that he would not be too late; that Lucy would be all right.

The doors seemed so much heavier than they should be, as they swung open. With the sudden raw scent of blood dense in the air, poor Edmund greeted his worst nightmare. Again.

There was Lucy, sprawled out on the cold floor, a good portion of her dress ripped away, revealing her blood-soaked arm and a fair portion her chest as well. Her opposite hand covered where the wound must have been, for between her fingers gushed sticky blood so dark crimson that it looked nearly black. She was panting, and she swiveled on the ground, trailing a small stream of blood behind her. "Ed—Edmund," she breathed, half groaning, and then, just that second, her eyes glazed, and she went crashing down on the floor, splattering her face with blood.

"Oh!" Leck cried, "What a terrible, tragic accident!"

Edmund ran to the princess's side instantly. He had only seen so much blood before once, and that had been a mixture of two people's blood, and lethal amounts lost at that. He had no idea how large her wound was, so he took off his doublet, and leaving his vest on the floor, stripped his tunic away and wrapped it tightly around her entire arm. Once it was as tight as possible, he picked up her pale little body as she struggled to breathe.

Ashen had been sympathizing with her husband, and when Edmund stood, he saw Leck with the blood on his hands, and with Lucy's torn dress, the first thing Edmund wanted to do was run him through with one of his own blades.

Still, Lucy was his first concern. Great skies, she was dying. At this realization, Edmund ran as fast as he could down the corridors, screeching for the physician anywhere and everywhere, cutting through rooms to reach their destination quicker. He ran through to the passageway he had used earlier, and he couldn't help but be grateful for his knowledge of it. Taking that route had given him the gift of extra seconds—extra seconds that could save Lucy's life.

Tumnus was white as snow when Edmund kicked the door open with Lucy in his arms. The faun stammered without anything left to say, so disturbed beyond plausible reasoning. Edmund paid little heed, and roared to him, "Get the physician!"

He couldn't hear the faun's hoof falls over the sound of his own heartbeat as he tried to wipe Lucy's arm clean with his tunic. It wouldn't stop bleeding.

"Where is this coming from?" he demanding to the air, ripping some of Lucy's skirt himself to tie around her arm like a band to cut the circulation.

His eyes continued to look downwards while he worked, simply to make sure her chest was still moving properly. "Hold on, Lucy," he said. "Lucy, you have to live through this. Come on. You say you aren't fragile…prove it. What's all this," he blinked, finding the smallest gash in her skin, still with new blood on it. It was not very deep, and no larger than a scratch a human's fingernail would give. "This is what made you bleed like that? _This?_"

He held her arm, and tried to bandage it with another strip ripped from her skirt. The blood just continued seeping outwards.

Edmund blinked at it and tried not to faint himself. "Son of a…"

It was then that the physician ran in, winded and frantic. "Get water, clean rags, and tight bandages." He demanded, and Tumnus dashed to do so as fast as his hooves would carry him. The physician took on look at Lucy, "She's lost much blood. Get the desmopressin mixture and the witch hazel_,"_he said, moving on to get some sort of brown-looking powdery mixture out of his bag anyway.

Once Tumnus came to them with the water and rags, the physician shooed both of the others out of the room instantly. "Believe me, I'll have an easier time healing her without you hanging over me whilst I'm busy."

When the door slammed in his and Tumnus's faces, Edmund looked at his hand, and saw it drenched in Lucy's dark blood.

His eyes involuntarily drew to the shield of Aslan, and slowly, he furrowed his brows. _Please_ he thought, eyes scanning over the golden Lion's face; _let her be all right._

XXXXXXXX

Waiting for the physician to tell them what was going to become of Lucy was like waiting for one's own execution, or so Edmund thought.

He had been obligated to clean himself up while waiting, as Tumnus looked as though he were about to vomit. As it was, he would have rather stayed in the room with Lucy. Washing in haste, he threw on a new tunic quickly and immediately began pacing throughout the room. He hit his fists together repeatedly, and cursed under his breath.

After a few minutes of apprehensive silence, Edmund moved towards Tumnus and sat across from him in one of the armchairs. "What's wrong with her?" He asked quietly.

"I can't see why on earth you, of all people, ought to know." Tumnus said, shaking still from seeing Lucy in the state she currently was in.

"Because I can't possibly protect her without knowing what I'm up against." Edmund said, and with that, he spun the whole story to the faun, who sat there, aghast. He told him of what Leck truly was, and that he would probably forget all of this the next time Leck spoke to him. "And you will forget. That is, unless you really believe completely that it was Leck who wanted to hurt her."

Tumnus sat in the chair, pulling at his horns in a quite peculiar manor. "Oh, don't speak to me right now. I'm thinking. I'm thinking so hard I might burst."

"While you're thinking," Edmund said, paying no heed to the faun's previous request, "don't you think you ought to tell me what's wrong with her?"

"It's called hemophilia," The physician's voice sounded from the doorway. "Her blood is too thin to clot on its own. And it seems as though her heart's rather weak, too, though I don't believe that has much to do with the other."

Edmund's brow furrowed. Lucy's blood was too thin? That explained quite a bit. It explained everything, actually. Why Tumnus was always so protective, her strict diet, and even the reason she could not have children or marry. It all fit. He would think about that more another time, but he finally realized something; the physician was out of isolation with Lucy. This meant that something was over. And it would either be the bleeding, or Lucy herself.

Tumnus was the first to ask about this, however, asking tentatively, "How is the princess? Is Lucy faring all right?"

The physician nodded stiffly. "She's unconscious still—I'm not sure how much blood she lost exactly, but it was very close to a lethal amount. I covered her cut with an herbal supplement that will help the blood to clot, and I bound her arm tightly. You will have to change these bandages every few hours, as she could start bleeding heavily once more any minute now." He began shuffling through his bag. "This," he said finally, taking out a tin of a white powder, "is what you should mix into her foodstuff for the next month or so, until she is fully healed. It will, again, help with the clotting. Make sure she eats soft foods, nothing stiff or with a crunch—puddings and soups would be the best. And no difficult physical exertion until she is healed fully at the month's end. She may walk about the room in a few weeks, and move about if she wishes for up to twenty minutes a day when she feels better, other than that, make sure she stays bedridden."

"A month?" Edmund asked. That was such a long time for such a tiny cut to heal!

"Once the cut is closed and healed, it will take a few more weeks for the princess to regain all the blood she lost." The physician said, and began to take his leave, apologizing, but that he had left a serving maid in labor to come here, as Lucy's case was by far direr, and needed to get back to it.

Wordlessly, Tumnus and Edmund entered the chamber with Lucy in it. The physician had been kindly enough to change her sheets, although the bloodstained ones resided at a heap on the floor, and to change her out of the ripped and bloodied dress, into a white nightshift. Edmund noticed that everything on the bed seemed white. Even Lucy's skin was far paler than ever before; her brown hair stood out against the white in a shockingly extreme contrast. The only contrast was the bloodstain from the inside of Lucy's bandage, showing already that they may need to change it.

The only small comfort was that Lucy looked asleep—that is, she looked content and peaceful, not dead. When people are dead, they look the part, without a soul in the body; Lucy's soul was still there. It was battered and bruised, but still there.

By the Lion; she was still alive.


	15. Waking Up

**A/N: I'm sorry if this chapter is a bit boring. It's mostly a filler chapter, and leads in to events that are going to happen later, so please bare with me. **

When night fell over the Eastern Sea, King Frank often found himself staring out one of the numerous windows of Cair Paravel, lost in thought. He allowed himself to consider the simplicity of the sea, and envy it, for there was nothing that simple in his life.

Remaining at the tip of the iceberg, so to speak, Frank was having issues with the newest regiment in the army. It seemed as though they were not going to be easily trained, which could pose as a problem, as the Calormenes seemed to just want to start trouble on the Lone Islands. Along with this, of course, some groups throughout Narnia, mostly dwarves, seemed to suddenly have a problem with Frank and his line on the throne. Why, Frank wondered, did they suddenly have a problem with his line? They had been ruling ever since they can rightly trace back in history, and just now, for no apparent reason others were having issues? They weren't terribly threatening as of yet, but it would be best to keep an eye on those groups.

Not only was the politics and overall amount of his station not simplistic, but just his life in general was nowhere near simple. His wife would refuse to stop going through the mail incessantly every day; she must have been very concerned with the trick of speech fumbled in Lucy's letter, she must have had a better understanding of the differences in religion on the opposite ends of the world. Then there were Frank's personal thoughts on the matter. He hated admitting that he was scared for his daughter as well, as doing so would show weakness, and a king was never supposed to be weak. Therefore, he refused to show any sign of alarm until he received the letter from Ivy and learned what exactly had got Lucy writing phrases like that. What she was being exposed to, Frank did not know, but he tried not to worry; for he knew how strong Lucy's belief in Aslan was, and that Master Tumnus, if all else failed, would be there to remind her what was expected of a Narnian.

"Frank?" Helena's voice came from behind him, in the doorway. "Aren't you coming to bed?"

Not really listening, Frank nodded and mumbled, "Yes. Of course, dear."

"You have to move for that to happen," Helena said slowly, and then walked up to her husband and kissed his cheeks. "You're too stressed. Look at you, you're running yourself ragged."

With a loving tone, a bit different from what the words would suggest, Frank said, "I could say the same thing about you."

Helena smiled softly, and said tiredly, "We're a wreck."

Then the king and queen simply stood on opposite sides of the long window, staring outward. The sky was a dark violet and the water black, the bright moon reflecting onto the shimmering surface. King Frank, after a few minutes, went on to ask, "What do you suppose your sister will write in her letter back to us?"

Helena shrugged, "I don't know. I've had more time to think about it, and well, if being in Lienid is going to effect Lucy like that, and plant ideas in her head like that…oh, Aslan knows I love my family, but I don't want my daughter adopting the elemental ideas."

"You don't really think Lucy's that easily swayed do you?"

"I didn't," Helena muttered. "But, Frank, how to you explain her writing that in the letter?"

King Frank was silent. His wife's nervousness was enough to make him uneasy, and therefore mixed with his initial intention of not revealing any strain until he knew exactly what was going on, after all, he had other things to think about.

The two looked at each other, and seemed to share a thought. Frank halfway grimaced. "She'd never forgive us if we took her away."

"But," Helena said, putting a hand on her husband's arm. "if she'd be better off away…and yes she would. Forgive us, I mean. You know Lucy. "

Frank nodded, slowly, and unsure what else to do but wanting to not think about what could break him down, offered his arm to Helena, and led her up the stairs to their chambers. While they walked, he spoke, "You know, with everything going on—with the armies, and with Lucy, I don't think we have gotten the opportunity to really talk to one another lately. How have you been?"

Helena laughed. "I've been fine. Signing things, keeping things running here, looking into helping some of the homeless Narnians in Dancing Lawn get homes. You know, my usual projects."

"I'm sorry that I haven't been around," Frank said, "to you. As your husband. It is one part where my character fails."

They had reached their doors, and there they stopped. Helena put her hand on her husband's cheek, running her thumb through his scrubby beard that had only changed in color since she had met him. "It's all right. I am not terribly good at that either. I suppose our characters can fail together."

"But," Frank spoke, taking Helena's hand in his. "I would like to make it up to you."

Once again, Helena laughed. "There was a time when you would have just up and told me exactly what you were thinking. And exactly what you wanted to do."

"I've had to become a grown up since then. Both of us have."

"We don't always have to be," Helena said, and reducing her voice to a whisper. "Not with each other. It can be our secret."

Frank smiled.

The next morning, as Frank shared breakfast with Helena, as they had made a pact to dine together once more the night before, a young messenger came bumbling into the dining room, he was a Badger, and seemed flushed, but it was hard to tell through all the fur.

The Badger stopped short, bowing low on his knee, with his long nose almost touching the marble floor until Frank remembered that he wasn't going to move until he told him otherwise. "Rise," Frank said, directing all kingliness into the air, despite it being so early in the morning.

Standing again, the Badger held out a yellowing parchment envelope. "A letter from Lady Ivy of Lienid to King Frank and Queen Helena of Narnia."

Frank looked at his wife, whose eyes seemed to suddenly widen to the size of their plates, as he took the letter. "Thank you," he said. "You may be off."

They ignored the Badger's bows of dismissal, as he left the room. Helena came up behind Frank's chair as he stared at the envelope, covered with a queer handwriting he did not recognize. He simply stared at the envelope, heavy and yellowed, with a green seal on the back, with Helena's old family crest.

"Frank, just open it, for goodness's sakes." Helena said, after a few moments of Frank simply staring at the envelope.

He nodded, and instead of reaching for one of their crystallized letter openers, simply tore the envelope open with his knife.

"What does it say?" Helena asked, not having her reading glasses with her at that moment.

Thus, Frank began to read.

"_My dearest sister and brother-in-law, _

_I don't know how this mistake was possibly made, nor how we let it slip by undetected for so long. I shall take partial or whole blame, whichever would be more accurate by your—Lucy's parents—views. For, you see, I had simply assumed that you had changed your minds; as this was not uncommon of Helena in my days of living with her in our childhood, and had not questioned it further. I should have." _

"What on earth is she on about?" Helena said, getting louder as she spoke. "We changed our minds? About _what_?"

Frank continued reading.

"_At first I thought that, perhaps, the carriage had simply needed some repairs along the way, or that Lucy had decided to stay in one of the other Kingdoms, or even Telmar, for longer than was originally anticipated. But, when she didn't show up for up to two months, I had assumed that you never sent her in the first place, and went on with life as usual." _

"What?" Helena screeched. "But…how? What? Oh, by the Lion! She never showed up? Then, where is she? Frank, where's our daughter?"

Frank let his mouth stay in a grimace, reading over the words in his head. No. It couldn't be. How could that be? But her letter, she had sent a letter. She had to have been in Lienid. It was impossible for her not to be.

Helena was, more or less, in hysterics. "She could be anywhere in the world!" She said, breathing heavily. "Oh, goodness…she could be…still in the wilds! She could be lost in any of the Kingdoms!"

Helena continued raving, until she found it hard to breathe, and promptly fainted.

Frank was at Helena's side quickly, but the serving maids, who had been along the wall, made it to the queen first, they began calmly fanning her, trying to bring her to again.

Since his wife was breathing, and seemed to be in good hands (besides, it wasn't the first time that Helena had fainted), Frank turned back to the letter. He scanned over the rest of Ivy's apologies and looked for what mattered to him. That was, any hints to where his poor daughter was, and what Ivy was going to do about it.

Frank knew that he had to send a regiment or so after Lucy to try to find her. The Calvary came to mind, but they were in the Lone Islands, trying to right the visiting Calormenes' behavior. He didn't want to sand in the new soldiers, as they were so difficult to train, it was such a serious matter, and such an important mission. However, that regiment seemed like the only option. If he sent the main army after them, people would find out, and then see him as weak, and some might try and seize Cair Paravel and Narnia out from under him. He had a responsibility to the Narnians, and he knew it was a dangerous set up. Why, he did not even have the foggiest idea of where Lucy was.

Then he stopped, realizing that they did have an idea of where Lucy was. Helena's theory of their daughter stuck in the Western Wilds was disproved, since they received a letter from her. Because of this, he knew she was in some place of residence at least when she sent the letter. Added to this, the trick of speech in her letter that Helena caught, proved she was somewhere in the Seven Kingdoms. He never thought he' be thankful for that trick of speech. At least he had some idea of where she where she was now.

There was still the question of how to find her. To be honest, he didn't necessarily want to send in the new soldiers it seemed he would be obligated to. He needed someone who knew what they were doing. He himself would have to remain in Narnia, however much it pulled his heart to do so; but he would not trust just anyone to lead the way on the quest to find Lucy. He needed someone who knew how to command people, or had the strong potential to if needed, and someone who cared about her.

Finally, he called for a messenger who could move quickly, a centaur, to go nonstop to Telmar, to give a request to their close friends.

XXXXXXX

Edmund watched with a painful frown as Lucy rocked from side to side in her bed, occasionally moaning and muttering out signs of being in pain or otherwise terrified. Her bandages were getting bloody again, and it was up to him to change them, as Tumnus was sitting in the back, having fallen asleep almost an hour ago. Lucy had been like this since the beginning, every time anyone went to touch her arm, it was as though she suddenly went spiraling through a nightmare, or remembrance, and she became skittish and scrambled about on the mattress.

In a way, according to the physician, it was a good thing; it showed that she wasn't going into total comatose. As far as Edmund was concerned, he thought that if this physician was as great as his Grace let on, he should be able to wake Lucy up; none of this waiting around for her to come to.

She had been knocked out for almost a week that day, Edmund realized. It seemed as though she might never wake up; but that made his throat dry and his heart drop through to the floor, and he would not think about it. So much could happen in one day, he found, and at the same time, so little. He rarely left Lucy's side; even Tumnus was more willing to leave, for sake of eating and sleeping. Edmund had only left Lucy for a moment, and that was when Jill had come in and offered to change Lucy's nightshift for her, since the sleeve was getting a bit bloodied and grimy from all the solutions they had to put on her cut.

At that time, Edmund had sat on the sofa, twiddling his thumbs, and cracking his knuckles with Eustace sitting on the chair opposite him, and Tumnus sitting in cold silence near him, but nowhere next to him.

"Well then," Eustace finally said awkwardly, "It finally happened, then?"

Edmund had only grunted in reply.

"She'll be all right, won't she?" Eustace asked, his entire face was etched into a concerned frown. "It was an extremely small cut, and you did stop the bleeding. Even with her disease," (for both he and Jill had been briefed on it earlier, when Edmund was putting the solutions on Lucy's cut) "it should be able to be healed, erm…in no time, you know."

"Then why isn't it?" Edmund demanded sharply. He had barely spoken ever since Lucy was attacked. Occasionally he did, a few small exchanges with Tumnus, but other than that, he had just let the horrible, empty feeling fester inside his chest cavity.

"Come on now, you don't need to yell." Eustace reasoned. "The physician did the right thing with the powders, I think. It should work. Those solutions, it seems, are made up of…"

"No offense," Edmund said, not exactly seeming like he meant no offense, "but I really don't care what they're made of. As long as they heal her."

Eustace nodded, grunting, and the room retreated once more into silence. Jill came out again, said that Lucy was changed again and everything was fine. Then, the party moved on to sit in Lucy's chambers again, as Edmund wanted to make sure. He sat on the edge of her bed and, once he saw she was sleeping peacefully and breathing, turned to face the others.

"What I want to know is how she got hurt." Jill said, "It doesn't make any sense…"

Edmund then spoke, "Eustace, go ahead and tell Jill, I suppose. Just, wait until you're alone in her chambers, or yours or whatever. I don't want to hear it right now."

Jill's brow drew close. "What's all this? Is there something I should know about?" she insisted.

Eustace had cringed slightly. "I'll explain it later, look, just give me a minute, all right?"

Jill frowned. "All right," she at last nodded.

"But, for now, do you think you could go out into the sitting room while I ask him something?"

"What? No! You said you'd explain it to me, and then turn around and ask me to leave because I won't understa—"

"Oh, do be decent." Eustace said. "You'll get the whole story, but I need to make sure you understand everything before you hear something like this."

Jill had, reluctantly, nodded swiftly, and moved quickly out of the room, however begrudgingly she did it.

"Nicely handled," Edmund put in, once the Graceling girl left the room.

Eustace exhaled, perhaps out of relief. "We should've told them immediately."

Edmund nodded in gruff agreement, "They might be safer, if they can convince themselves and keep control. But then again, it's easier for girls to lose their heads—remember that they're controlled by emotion."

"Either way, I'm in a rough spot with Jill now," Eustace frowned, and then said perhaps too gravely, "And girls are scary sometimes."

Risking cracking a smile, Edmund shook his head in amusement, and then sobered. "What did you want to ask me?"

"Well, what are you're going to do?" Eustace had said plainly. "I think it's obvious that Leck's noticed her. I mean he tried to…" He faded. "Well, anyway. It's only a matter of time before he tries again. You can't just hide away forever. It's _his_ castle."

"I've been thinking about that ever since she got first attacked," Edmund admitted. "And when you can't hide, your options are fight or flight. And Leck has all of the fighting Gracelings in Monsea on his side. I couldn't fight and get out alive. And if I died…he'd get her."

"So, you're running away?" Eustace said, in disbelief. "Just like that? After everything you've fought for?"

Edmund scoffed. "I'd been fighting to save my own skin. It wasn't even real fighting anyway; just secrecy and a lot of tricks. I was hiding like a bloody coward. It doesn't matter right now. Don't you get it? Lucy was almost killed. And then more. Granted, no one in Monsea is safe at all with him all about. But still…" He proceeded to curse loudly in a fashion that made Tumnus glare at him from his respective seat. "Look, the crux of the matter is that, even after I take Lucy away from here; if she's what Leck wants, he's going to find her. All it is to him is a game of cat and mouse. He'll corner her, and then talk her into coming to him quietly." He hit his fist against the table, "And she'll do it. She's so _stupid_. She's going to go along with it, and she's going to be…" He couldn't finish from there.

"What if she knows about Leck's Grace? Think about it simply. If she knows, she can remind herself about what Leck really is, then perhaps she could control herself."

"It's not that simple," Edmund had said. "First off, you have to constantly remind yourself about Leck, don't you? And you don't even talk to the man himself. Lucy's with him all the time. And not only that, haven't you wrapped that thick head around the fact that Leck wants her to come to him quietly? Just having the capability to know what's a lie and what's the truth means nothing. Susan knew. Susan had known for years. But that didn't help her when she went into Leck's chambers alone, now did it?"

"Is that what happened then?" Eustace's eyes darkened.

Edmund had pushed the memory into the back of his head again. Of course that was how it happened. Leck had wanted Susan; she had no choice, it was go along with it, be cut up and worse, but survive the first time through, or be killed on the spot. Peter, obviously, didn't like the sound of it, and went to fight for his wife's honor and life; and ended up with a slash through his throat with the same _misericord Leck had sheathed with Lucy. _

_Edmund snapped out of his lengthy flashback, with his hands tangled up in clean bandages for Lucy, as he brought the current situation back to himself. Lucy would heal, and then he would worry about getting her out of Monsea. She was thrashing about on the mattress, whimpering, and occasionally moaning out, "Stop it. No…stop." _

_"Shhh," Edmund said, moving his hand from her arm to her hair, "you're going to be all right. I've got you." _

_Lucy calmed for a second, she stopped thrashing, calmed down and even sighed. Her eyes did not part, however. Edmund blinked, and tried not to think about the fact that the sound of his voice had calmed her. _

_When he gingerly put his hand on her arm again, Lucy was just as terrified as before, thrashing and scrambling in bed. _

"Stop!" she suddenly cried, shooting into an upright position. She had been spiraling through a terrible nightmare, one with her, more or less, swimming in a lake of blood, pushing and kicking a darkened figure off her. She was panting and sweating, as she gazed around the room, trying to figure out how she got there.

The room was dark in the room, and she could barely make out most of her surroundings through the blue darkness. It sounded as though there were someone snoring on the opposite side of the room. When she moved her blankets off her legs and went to stand, a hand grabbed her shoulder, and she let off a scream.

"Shh," a voice said as though it was trying to sound calm, and yet as though it were suppressing tears., "Lu, it's all right. Lie down again, and try and relax, Love. Try and stay quiet; Tumnus is sleeping over there. I have to change your bandages now."

"Edmund?" Lucy asked groggily, lying down once more. "What happened?"

She felt Edmund move the sleeve on her nightshift upwards. "You've been unconscious for a few days now. You always get restless when I go to change your bandage. It's like you have a nightmare, or something, when someone touches your arm."

Nodding stiffly, Lucy mumbled, "I think I was having a nightmare when I woke up."

"I think I gathered that from your screaming."

Lucy smiled slightly, and then, she looked over towards her arm, and any calmness on her face evaporated instantly. "What in the world happened to me?" she shrieked.

"You got cut," Edmund said, covering her little scratch with the powdery solution from before. "And you lost a lot of blood, but you're all right now."

Blushing slightly, Lucy mumbled, "You know, don't you?" Then, when he nodded, she continued. "I'm so sorry. I—I wanted to tell you. Really, I was going to…are you…laughing at me?"

"Not laughing, exactly. It's just that…after everything, you're so worried about not telling me about having thin blood? After what I've seen, believe me, that's the last thing I'd worry about."

Lucy paused. "And…what did you see? Edmund, what happened to me?"

Edmund grimaced at the memory of Lucy on the floor, and all the blood. For the past few days, he had gone through different scenarios of Lucy's waking up in his head. The last thing he wanted was to show how nervous he was. He tried to keep it down, and show her calmness and ease, "Do you remember anything at all?"

Slowly, Lucy paused, and then said, "I was on a walk, and King Leck invited me in to talk with him…and then it fogs up."

"Try to remember. Anything at all."

"I-I can't." Lucy's voice cracked, she laid haplessly on her pillows, watching as Edmund put her sleeve back down over her wrists. "Why can't I remember?"

Edmund stared at Lucy, breath quivering ever so slightly, "I'll explain everything later, I promise. Just…I'm glad you're awake. Can you not ask questions for a bit?"

Lucy nodded slowly, and noticed the dark circles around Edmund's eyes. "Haven't you been sleeping?" she asked softly.

Truthfully, Edmund hadn't slept for more than five-minute intervals, but he wouldn't let her know that. "I'm fine. Besides, Tumnus is asleep and you'll need somebody around you to make sure you don't start bleeding again. "

She didn't quite believe him, as it looked as though he were about to collapse from exhaustion. She was still a bit tired herself, moving about in the nightmare had, in fact, taken away some of her energies. "I can tell when I'm bleeding, Edmund." She sighed. "Well, do you want to sleep?" she asked, scooting over on the mattress, and moving the blankets off her legs. "Come on in. You need to sleep."

"I don't know, Lucy. That's probably not the best idea," Edmund said, his cheeks getting hot.

Lucy sighed. "Please. If you don't sleep…it's not healthy for you. I'm worried."

Edmund cracked a laugh. She was worried about his health? Well, it was Lucy; she was rather unpredictable. He, then seeing no way out of it, detached his sheath from his belt, took off his boots, and climbed onto the white sheets. Settling onto the pillow next to the princess, he asked quietly, "Are you happy now?"

Lucy smiled, and answered with a voice of a woman who hadn't slept in weeks, "Ecstatic."

Edmund didn't understand why he was smiling and laughing so much; he knew why, but he didn't understand. It was that she was alive, and that she seemed well enough; she seemed confused, but not afraid. Lucy was with him, fully conscious, holding his hand, and nestling her head into his neck as she drifted off, much more quickly than he did.

Neither of the two slept, Edmund simply laid down and tried to think about how to get Lucy out of Monsea, and yet, he didn't want to think about anything. He just wanted to lay there, beside Lucy, as she was alive, no longer unconscious, and lying there with him. He liked the tremor inside his chest, the tremor he hadn't felt in a while, as Lucy's hair tickled his neck, and she moved her fingers to intertwine with his. He tuned his mind out, and focused on the physical feeling of everything. It was strangely relaxing just to lie there, and he tried to keep it; after all, he would never be there again. You can never relive the same moment—you will never be in the same place twice, and so, he held her close, and finally drifted into a much-needed sleep.

**A/N: Please review on your way out.**


	16. Her Protector

The healing process, after Lucy had woken up, seemed to go by much faster. True, she slept most of the time, but when she was not sleeping, she would talk with her companions or otherwise read. Edmund was thankful for the times when they would talk. She was always cheerful, though admittedly confused of what was going on, as neither Edmund nor Tumnus seemed to want to discuss how she got hurt. When she would try to press them, Tumnus would always burst into tears, and Edmund would look as though he was going to vomit.

"Couldn't you just tell me how I got this cut?" she asked Edmund one morning, as she adjusted your quilt on her shoulder, having gotten a little past irritated at the secrecy.

He sighed, sitting on the ground beside her mattress with his chin on the corner of her pillow. "Would you believe me if it were something you thought impossible?"

Lucy furrowed her brows. "Well, I suppose so."

Edmund struggled; perhaps if he told her, then it would make everything easier. What if she found out, and was able to control it? He knew her secret; perhaps it was high time for her to know his. "Lucy…you know that people aren't always what they seem to be, don't you?"

Nodding slowly, Lucy said, "Well, yes, I suppose."

"And, well, if you trust someone…they might not be who you think they are."

Blinking, Lucy said, "Well, if I trust them, wouldn't I know them?"

"Usually," Edmund mumbled. "But, not always. Lu, do you remember the story Eustace read to us? The one about the boy who controlled his father's mind, and killed him?"

Lucy nodded slowly, she definitely remembered, although she didn't want to think about it.

"What if you knew him?" Edmund said on a single breath. "How would you know if he's controlling you? Would you be able to stop yourself from believing something even if it sounded completely right?"

Lucy pressed her lips together. "I don't understand."

The sun then spilled through the window in Lucy's room, and with that, Edmund seemed to understand that Lucy just would not understand. She was too far-gone, too brainwashed. He tried not to show his disappointment.

'Never mind, then," Edmund said. "How are you feeling this morning?"

"Confused," Lucy said honestly, propping herself up on her healthy arm, as she reached for a storybook she liked to busy herself with during the day, as Tumnus hadn't the heart to resume lessons with her quite yet.

That afternoon, the physician decided to step by and check in on Lucy. Edmund attempted to question the physician before he went in to look at Lucy, trying to discover if Leck planted the idea in his mind, so that the Monsean king would have an idea of how his newest interest was healing. No doubt, Leck was now aware of Lucy's condition, and chances were good that he sent the physician again. However, Edmund was unsure of what to do. On the one hand, the physician was possibly the only person who could heal Lucy, and he would be able to detect if something was wrong, even though she seemed fine. On the other, he didn't want the physician running off to Leck to tell him that Lucy was feeling better, to give the man the idea that he would be able to finish what he had started, in whichever way interested him more, as both would kill her.

In the end, Edmund let the physician look at Lucy. He was still intending to remove her from Monsea as soon as he possibly could, and as soon as he discovered how he was going to go about that. Therefore, it wouldn't be a problem if that physician did run off to Leck immediately, provided he got Lucy out before the king could call her to his side.

Edmund sat glumly at Lucy's bedside, while Tumnus wrung his hands behind him, and Lucy had her arm examined and poked. She had her pulse checked, and the physician asked her seemingly pointless questions, about her level of energy or any food allergies she possibly had. Edmund was getting impatient. Why couldn't the man simply tell him right out if Lucy was healing at a good pace—or at all?

"Princess," the physician said, packing up his bag of solutions and medicines. "You are healing remarkably well thus far. I want you to stay in bed for another week or so, but feel free to walk about your chambers for a few minutes every day. However, if you start to feel tired, or even in the least bit sleepy, rest yourself. Is this all clear?"

Lucy nodded, and the physician continued.

"Provided you intend to stay hydrated, I see no reason to keep you on this diet I previously prescribed." He smiled as the princess's face suddenly lit up.

"I can have food?" Lucy asked, and Edmund almost laughed at how hopeful she sounded.

The physician did laugh a single chortle of amusement. "Yes. Nothing hard or difficult to chew, mind you. But, as long as it's remotely soft, you can have food. I'd recommend heating cut-up apples so they're soft and sprinkling cinnamon on them."

"Why?" Tumnus cut in. "Will it help with digestion or energy or…"

"No." The physician said instantly, cracking another chortle. "I just thought it would be a sweet treat the princess would enjoy. Now, I must be off and tend to another patient. Good day."

"Why, you just had breakfast." Tumnus remarked.

"Please?"

The faun laughed and nodded. "All right, I will go and prepare something for you myself."

So, Tumnus left the bedchamber, with his cloven hooves making a distinct pitter-pattering noise on the stone floors.

Edmund shook his head, grinning, and rolling his eyes. "You're rather excited about getting to eat again, aren't you?"

Lucy turned a little pink, and nodded. "Yes, of course I am."

"Why? You do it ever day, I've never seen you get all excited about it before."

Beginning to tug at her sleeve, Lucy said, "Yes, but for the past two weeks I've only had soups and puddings. It makes you begin to loathe it, if it's all you can have."

"Don't scratch your bandage," Edmund said, impulsively reaching out to take Lucy's opposite hand and stopping her from opening her cut again. "And you've never complained about that before. I thought you were fine with it."

Lucy shrugged. "It wasn't worth complaining about. You and Tumnus couldn't help it, why would I want to complain?"

"You've got me there." Edmund smiled.

They sat in silence for another minute or two, listening to Tumnus dashing about in the dining room, trying to prepare something soft enough for Lucy, when she spoke again.

"I think I might need my bandage changed. Want to help me out?"

Edmund nodded, and brought out the bandages and solutions to put on Lucy's cut. Then he unwound the grimy bandage; slowly, it seemed as though each time the bandages were changed, there was less blood on it. This time, there were only a few drops. He could not help but smile with relief at this. She was healing; no fog or cloud could possibly mask that.

He then took a soft, dampened cloth, and carefully wiped off Lucy's arm around the cut. The skin around the wound was pink and purple, and where the cut was closing was a pasty white color. When he removed all of the old solution from her skin, his fingers swept over the underside of her arm. Her skin was softer than usual, and he had to hastily remove his hand.

Dipping a separate cloth into a small tin, he wiped the jell-like solution over the white patch of fragile skin, noticing how Lucy's eyes shut the moment he made contact. How pained she looked! Edmund, at that point, always wanted to pack it up, and take away the pain on her face, but he knew that she wouldn't get better if he didn't.

He patted the white powder part of the solution over her cut, and that was that. Then he washed his hands and began to wrap the new white bandage around her arms, just tight enough to be snug and not to cut off her circulation.

As he wound the bandage, Lucy spoke. "It's getting easier."

"What is?" Edmund asked, tying the white ends of the bandage together, and removing his hands from her arm.

Lucy gazed at her sheets. "Letting people touch my arm again. I don't get so scared anymore."

Edmund looked, unblinkingly, at her face. "You're going to be all right," he remarked, repeating it for his own sake more than for Lucy.

When Lucy met his eyes, Edmund took his hand, snaking it up her healthy shoulder and round her neck, and pulled her in closer. He kissed her softly, and she returned it. He felt her bandaged arm rest on his shoulder, as slim, soft fingers caressed his cheek and moved backwards to touch his hair.

He did not want to stop, and so when their lips parted, he kissed her again. That, too, ended too quickly, and so he repeated himself, possibly, a dozen times, until Lucy, somehow, wound up sitting on his legs.

They would have continued, one can imagine, if there were not suddenly a loud clamor from the spare room with the wardrobe. They both looked in that direction. Tumnus was in the opposite side of their chambers, and so they knew that it was not merely the faun making a racket.

Edmund stood, and grabbing the hilt of his sword, said to Lucy, "You stay here."

"What are you going to do?" she asked, starting to stand after him.

"I'm going to check it out. Just…stay here. You're still healing, remember."

Unsheathing his sword completely, Edmund walked slowly to the spare room. He did not know what it could be. As far as he knew, there were no secret passages in the wardrobe or anywhere else in the room, and there was only one entrance. Who, or what, could have gotten in?

When he peeked his head around the doorway, he saw a man, perhaps a year or two his senior, lifting himself off the floor, right underneath the window. He must have climbed the wall and climbed in the window, but did not anticipate the height of the window to the floor, and came crashing down when he jumped in. Stupid man, Edmund thought, as his own Grace gave him obvious insight to things like that, and he was halfway unaware that the rest of the world wouldn't know such things at a glance.

The man was dark compared to Monsean people and (using Lucy and Tumnus as a reference point) Narnians, about the same tone of most Lienid people. However, his clothing looked quite a bit more eastern than that, and he had no rings or earrings. A Telmarine, Edmund realized. What in the world was a Telmarine doing in his and Lucy's chambers? Moreover, and most importantly, what was so special about that room that made him climb a wall just to gain entrance? Could he have known about Lucy? Who was he?

"Be still," Edmund warned, stepping out from the shadows, holding his sword out at full length. "And I'll consider not hurting you."

The man looked at him, met his eyes, and shrunk back for a moment, but then returned Edmund's threat by drawing his own sword.

"Do you really want it to go this way?" Edmund asked, smirking.

The Telmarine spoke through his eastern accent. "You pulled your sword at me first."

"And you broke in."

The swords collided, as the sound of scraping metal greeted the air. It was impossible to tell who struck first, but that tends to be a moot point; what really matters is who gives the last blow.

Edmund thought that the Telmarine's technique would have been impressive, indeed the man would have stood a chance, if not for the fact that he was opposing a Graceling. As it was, Edmund found a hundred different things wrong with what the Telmarine was doing, a hundred little imbalances, and he could find at least fifty was he could decapitate him in seconds. However, that was not what he was aiming to do; the point was to disarm the Telmarine and point him in the opposite direction.

For some reason, he decided to mess with the Telmarine's head. Let him get cocky, so that when he was defeated by simple beginner's technique, he would gather the idea to never engage in a fight with a person with two different colored eyes. The swords clashed, hit, and it only took moments for the Telmarine to assume that his opponent's Grace was not in swordplay, and that he was not trained extensively. Edmund almost rolled his eyes when he saw it on his face, it did not take long at all to trick Easterners.

Therefore, when the Telmarine went to disarm Edmund, the Graceling stepped out of the way, quick as a flash, and the Telmarine was greeted with the hilt of his opponent's sword bashing him in the nose.

Edmund rolled his eyes as the Telmarine stood again, leaving his sword in a relaxed position in his hand. "You do realize that I'll just keep on knocking you down if you get back up again, don't you?"

"All right then," The Telmarine spoke, still holding his sword out in a defensive position, "And if I fully intend to continue getting up again?"

"Why? Do you really—" Edmund asked, until he was cut off by a girl's voice in the doorway.

"Edmund? What's going on here?" Lucy asked, obviously fatigued from the way she was holding the doorway. Then, the Narnian princess blinked, gazing passed her guard, to the Telmarine. "Caspian?" she asked.

It took the Telmarine a moment to look at the Narnian princess and recognize her, for she must have been quite a bit paler and thinner than the last time he saw her. "Lucy!" he shouted out finally.

Lucy shot through the room, and warmly wrapped her arms around Caspian's neck to embrace her friend. Edmund sheathed his sword, feeling a strange pull of his attentions to the Narnian princess and Caspian (who, through memories, Edmund was able to realize, was the Telmarine prince). The pull seemed to resemble emotions rather akin to jealousy and fear. Lucy had previously made it clear that Caspian was only a friend, that was not where the jealousy was rooted, merely the fact that normality and high status won out importance to the Graced once more—for he could see where Lucy's concern and curiosity lied when she noticed Caspian. The fear? Edmund lived in fear for the majority of his life, what would another ounce or so do to him? At this point, he was afraid on the inevitable, Caspian had come to take Lucy away.

It shouldn't have bothered Edmund, for he was going to do the same thing as soon as she was completely well and fit for the sort of traveling they would have to do without a carriage or horses, or even a tarp tent. Frankly, it would be better, traveling wise, if Caspian would be the one to take her, provided he could work with the Telmarine enough to get Lucy out of Leck's castle unregistered. But, a part of Edmund's personality that was not the most idyllic came forth as he realized it—he wanted to be the one to do it. He tried to focus on the logical parts of it, for perhaps no other reason than making himself feel better. After all, if Caspian took Lucy back to Narnia, that would be the obvious, and Leck would find them.

He focused again on the two across the room from him. They had come off from their embrace, although there was still physical contact with Lucy's hands on Caspian's shoulders, and his on her elbows. If Edmund had the choice, he would have forced them apart, but it was not his choice to make.

Lucy laughed. "You've grown a beard."

"It wasn't necessarily a choice, but yes." Caspian said. "It was expected of me, since it's in the culture of my people."

"Not to cut the small talk," Edmund said, feeling surly out of nowhere. "But, if you would mind explaining what you're doing here? Or how you knew this was Lucy's room, that would be nearly as interesting as the fact you've grown a beard."

Lucy looked at him oddly, and Edmund tried to shake the fact that it made him rather disgusted with himself.

Caspian ignored Edmund, but answered the question, although he was talking to Lucy. "Your mother and father are worried sick about you. They've sent search parties out in all directions, even getting Telmarine and Archenlander regiments to join in looking for you."

Lucy blinked. "Why would they be worried about me?"

"Well, when you never showed up in Lienid…" Caspian began, but Lucy cut him off, unintentionally interrupting.

"Wait. Hang on. Why would I be in Lienid? They sent me to live in Monsea." Lucy said, raising a brow and stepping backward.

"Not according to them," Caspian said. "That's part of the reason I came along with the search party; I knew you'd be in Monsea from your letter—and that's also how I knew where your room was. But, why is your story so different from your parents'?"

"How do you mean?"

Caspian explained slowly, obviously taken aback by the apparent air-headedness of the usually intelligent princess. "You said in your letter that you were living in Monsea permanently. But, your parents sent you to Lienid for just the year."

Lucy held her head; the room was beginning to spin, and the fogs were back for the first time since she first woke up. "No. That can't be right. King Leck told me that I was here for life. He said this was my home."

Edmund felt his heart stop. He was about to address the matter on hand, but something new came to mind, and he had to ask it. "Prince Caspian," he said, "you said you were with a search party. Where are they now?"

Caspian knit his brow, "They're going to question King Leck about Lucy's whereabouts."

Hereupon, Edmund said one of the worst words to ever let pass your lips in front of a lady, and rather loudly, at that.

"Edmund!" Lucy said, rather disgusted with his choice of words.

"Sorry," he said, in reality not very concerned with that at that moment. "Well, congratulations, Prince Caspian," he muttered. "You just took the situation from deadly and risky, to damning."

"What are you talking about?" Lucy insisted, going over to Edmund, and putting her hand on his arm.

After holding it back for nearly the entire year, after thinking it over again and again and always coming up with the same answer, it finally came through, like vomit. He didn't even mean to say it, but he did. "Leck's Graced." He said. "He's the boy from the story. He controls people's minds with his words. And those animals in his shelters? He's the one cutting them up."

Lucy took a step backward again. "No. That can't be…he's my frie—" she began, but then a terrible pain hit her head, so badly that she had to grip her temples and crouch over to compensate for the pain. "He is…oh, Aslan."

"Here," Edmund said, extending his reach to the princess again. "Look, you need to lie down again. Come on."

"I'm fine." Lucy insisted. "Are you telling me that he's been controlling me all this time?"

Edmund could to nothing but nod numbly. "And that's why he wanted you to meet him alone…"

"So he could cut me up?

"And something else." Edmund could not' take it. He hated seeing this look on Lucy's face.

"What do you mean?" Lucy began to ask, but then she realized, and covered her mouth with her hands. "What did he do to me?"

Edmund shook his head. "Nothing. I intervened in time."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Lucy said, swallowing the tears that seemed to be building.

Edmund responded, trying to numb the feeling of a knife digging through his heart. "Chances are, the next time Leck speaks to you, you'll forget everything. You think through your emotions and feelings, so it's inevitable."

Lucy sighed, shaking all over. "Well, I'll just have to be ready for it then."

Here, Caspian spoke again. "I need to get you out of here, Lucy."

"Don't do anything stupid." Edmund said. "You need to sneak away, and then where would you take her? I can't tell you how often I've thought this—but if Leck wants her, he's going to go and get her. Get her to walk back to him."

Lucy held her head, and swayed at the spot. Edmund was by her side in a moment, and said, "Look, Prince Caspian, she needs to lie down. If you can trust me, we'll find out a way to get her away from here. There's a lot of precautions we have to keep in mind though."

Caspian kept level eyes with Edmund. "Just give me one valid reason I ought to trust you. For all I know you could really be the one doing all this, and just blaming the king."

Edmund glared, even though Caspian did have a point. At last he said, "Because I'm the only one who knows what's going on; because I'm one of the only ones who knows what Leck's doing. I've been her protector since the beginning. And that's what I'm going to continue to be. I _am_ her protector."

**A/N: This is what I get for only having five minute intervals to work on this between shenanigans. If any of it doesn't flow very well, I'm so very sorry! And this chapter is mostly dialogue…drat! **


	17. Too Weak to Remember

**/!\ - Okay, well, there is a warning in this chapter for adult themes and violence. Reader's discretion is advised.**

Caspian looked out the window of Lucy's chambers, as the Narnian troops marched out, strong, hopeful, and leaving behind exactly the person they came for, not even realizing she was there. "Well, Edmund," the Telmarine said, "you were right."

"I wish I wasn't." Edmund mumbled, still looking over a map that he scarcely looked up from in the two days Caspian had been with them. He had traced over alternate pathways over a hundred times, still drawing a blank as to the best path out of the castle to Monport. The main road was the obvious, but also considerably longer than a more rough, private route where, chances were, that they'd be trespassing for the majority of the journey.

"So, we go on with your plan then?" Caspian asked, looking gravely at the Graceling.

Edmund nodded. "How long will it take you to get previsions and your ship ready?"

"The _Dawn Treader_ was in good shape when I left, and since none of the crew came here with me and the other soldiers, I'd say three days to clean up and get food and water."

Frowning, Edmund said, "No good. We'll have to go after you, but we'll take a week at most to figure out a way to get out, sneak into the passageways without being seen, and then a day underneath the castle, and then traveling to Monport without horses. Unless we can buy them from someone on the way."

"All right then, fine." Caspian said. "I'll give you two weeks after I leave to get to us, before I send anyone out."

Tumnus spoke up at this time, the poor faun had his knitting needles in his lap, too upset for the past few days to even begin a simple scarf. "Will Lucy be fit for traveling by then? You know how tired she's been lately."

"She can mend again once we're on the sea." Edmund said, solemn faced. "I don't like the idea of her getting sick while we're traveling, but I hate the idea of her getting sliced open and bleeding to death even more."

This shut the faun up, and Caspian frowned as well. "Lucy," said the Telmarine to the Narnian princess, who was sitting sullenly on the rug with a cup of uneaten soup in her hands that had ceased to be warm long ago. "You've been awfully quiet. What do you think about the plan and everything?"

"What's going to happen to the Narnian and Telmarine soldiers who left just now?" Lucy asked, staring into her cup. "Where are they going?"

Edmund didn't look up from his map even now. "Probably to one of the other Kingdoms. Leck's most likely told them that's where you are. They'll attack, certain you're there, and the stronghold they're at will attack back, since they've probably never even heard of you."

Here Lucy felt her eyes get wet, as her vision blurred. Caspian went and sat next to his friend, putting his hand on her shoulder, and shooting daggers at the Graceling for lack of tact.

Edmund must have seen that he said something wrong, and shrunk backwards. "Look, Lu, I—"

Lucy shook her head. "I don't want people to die because of me."

Edmund's response was so honest, so grave that everyone in the room, even Edmund himself, found themselves drawn into silence. "You might be surprised how often wars begin over a woman."

Shortly afterward, Caspian scaled down the window of Lucy's spare room with a rope attached round his waist. He was to find his horse behind a tree in the garden, and head off the road as quickly as he could, until he came to the port where his ship was. Meanwhile, it was up to Edmund, Tumnus, and Lucy to prepare for a trying journey.

It was unpredictable. Leck's soldiers would certainly come after them as soon as they were gone, but there would be no forcing them back. Leck always wanted to hear consent. As long as Edmund stopped Lucy from hearing any words coming from Leck's mouth, or any of his brain-dead soldiers, they stood a chance to get out to sea. That's as far as the plan was made. Once they were on open water, as safe as they could be, they would come up with something new.

In the meantime, they had to think about getting out of the castle. They would have to sneak without being seen to the passageways underneath the castle, until they came up to the opening on the port road. Hopefully then they would soon come to a town, where they could buy horses, at least one for Lucy, though preferably one for each of them. Although Edmund was unsure if Tumnus could even ride. Then the journey would go quicker, and they would find Caspian and his ship, and then head out to sea. Ideally, it would go simply enough, although there was no telling with Leck.

XXXXX

After Caspian left shortly after they were decided on the final plan, scaling down the window that he came, urging them all to be careful during their preparations. He needn't have worried in that early stage. Stealing food was the easy part; they would simply pack away a little when the maids brought in their meals for the day. They needed enough for a week, and so they knew they must wait a week until they had the food that was necessary. None of these foods was the sort that Lucy was used to eating; they packed away bacon and breads for the most part, Tumnus feared that poor Lucy would get sick to her stomach on the journey, especially with having to sleep on the cold ground.

Lucy remained quiet for most of the time while packing, lying in bed, tracing her fingers over the binding of her old Western history book. She did not need much, everything but the food was all ready to go. She had a warm peasant's dress in layers that would be easy to travel in, warm enough for nights and easy enough to remove a layer if it got too warm and remain modest. They all packed cloaks to wear and to sleep on and the saddlebags Edmund was packing would have to serve for pillows.

It was like waiting for the end of the world, days passed and there was very little speaking. Anyone would have given anything for conversation, or even for the clicking of Tumnus's knitting needles.

Lucy finally got tired of this, just about when the week was over, and decided to leave the her chambers, very briefly, to pay a visit to Eustace and Jill. Both Edmund and Tumnus were completely opposed to the idea.

"Look, Lu, you can't go," Edmund said, trying to stop Lucy from leaving the chambers. "You're still healing."

Lucy frowned. "But I can walk for a few minutes. And, besides, I want to talk with them. I think our friends deserve to know where we're going; so it won't be like we've just tipped off the edge of the world."

"You have a point," Edmund mumbled, and here Tumnus intervened.

"Lucy, don't you want to think this over?" The faun said, putting a hand on the princess's healthy shoulder. "We have gone over this again and again; you aren't safe out there…" And he looked like he was about to cry.

"Oh, please." Lucy muttered. "Come on, Tumnus. Why are you crying; a great big faun like you?" She was somewhere between slightly cross and comforting, a strange combination, and yet there it was. "I promise to be careful. But I owe it to Jill and Eustace. I haven't seen them at all since I was…." She faded, and then came back, sounding as if there was something in her throat. "Since I was attacked."

Both male parties in the room seemed to back off at this, standing aside to let the princess out the door. She nodded and smiled sheepishly as she walked out of the room.

"Lu?" Edmund called, as she left. "You have an hour and a half until I go to look for you. And use the passageways I've showed you before."

As Lucy left, Edmund shook his head. "Why do I have the feeling this isn't going to end well?"

XXXXXXXX

Edmund's answer came when Lucy's hour and a half was just about over, and she wasn't quite back yet. He had gone to frantic pacing, cursing himself, his family he knew nothing about, and every elemental spirit he could possibly think of. What had compelled him to allow Lucy to walk through the castle unsupervised? Possibly, it was because he wanted to believe that Lucy was completely out of Leck's hold. He wanted to think that she was safe, although she was anything but. He could not help but think; was this what Peter felt like when Susan walked about the castle alone?

Tumnus sat on the sofa, with a cup of tea that had long since cooled on his furry knees, muttering to himself a frantic rant that seemed to say things that resembled "Lion," "mane," and "Aslan" every few seconds.

Suddenly, there came a loud rapping at the door. Both the faun and the Graceling looked at each other, perplexed, and then raced to the door.

Somehow, Tumnus reached the door before Edmund, but they both blinked confusedly when they saw who was at the door.

The Graced fellow whom Edmund had sparred with in Lucy's first trip to the training arena, the one who gave him a bloodied nose stood there, with a fogged look in his eyes.

"Corin?" Edmund asked, unused to seeing this brutal expression on his friend's face, even when it was fogged.

"I have the warrant for your arrest, Edmund." Corin said on level voice, a voice that usually was not his.

Edmund coughed. "My arrest? On what grounds? What law have I broken?"

"Defiance of the King." Came the answer, obviously not out of Corin's own brain, and then came the next, "And for attempted rape of the Narnian princess."

"Attempted _what_?" Edmund repeated, shouting and outraged.

"There have been sightings, from a very good source, of you sitting atop of the princess, holding her down. As well as trying to get her alone, to kiss her, and view her while changing."

Edmund blinked. He knew where these things were drawn; as he had kissed Lucy, and during her first months in Monsea he had held her down; he recalled, to try and get it through her head that Gracelings were dangerous. And the changing? He thought that must have been when he caught Lucy holding Susan's wedding dress to her. It was all distorted entirely, but the real question was how they knew about any of it? It had all happened in the privacy of those chambers.

The answer came soon enough, when Tumnus whispered loudly, "Oh, goodness gracious me! What have I done?"

So that was it; Tumnus had blindly told the king everything. But, of course. Well, there was nothing Edmund could do. He did not have his sword, and Corin could take him down with two punches. He knit his brow, and tried to swallow the dry lump arising in his throat and said, "All right. I'll go with you." Then, quick as he could, he turned to Tumnus and hissed, "Get Lucy and get out of here."

No sooner had he begun to speak, than his friend began dragging him in the other direction, out the door. He caught up, not wanting to waste any energy he might need later on struggling.

Instead of following Corin to the dungeons, which Edmund expected, and knew he could get out of, he found himself pulled and led by the wrong end of a sword to King Leck's throne room. As Corin opened the golden and bejeweled doors, Edmund saw yet another nightmare unfold behind him.

There sat King Leck, on his throne, and just in front of him stood Lucy, looking foggier than ever before, every part of her that made her Lucy seemed to be gone from her eyes.

He was pushed into the room, and wound up hitting his knees on the hard floors, though no physical pain could top what he was going through now. Corin pushed him again, wanting him to walk further in, and then retreated to the wall on the side, taking the place against the wall that Edmund used to occupy as Leck's personal guard.

Leck saw him, and a truly wicked smirk came underneath his beard, and the king turned to Lucy. "Now, what is your name, miss?"

"Lucy," she responded on even breath, not even noticing that Edmund was in the room at all.

Leck nodded. "And how old are you?"

"Fifteen."

"Where were you born?"

Lucy's answer made Edmund's heart stop. She it at such a natural pace, as though she truly believed it.

"Monsea," she said.

"Have you ever been east of the mountains?" Leck asked, folding his hands at his crossed knees.

Lucy shook her head. "No, never once."

Edmund felt tears spring up in his eyes; they burned and mocked him. As they met his green and amber corneas, they seemed to yell to him, _let's see your Grace save her; let's see you try. You know you cannot. You are nothing. _

King Leck continued. "And would you ever like to go east of the mountains?"

Once more, Lucy shook her head, "No. Why would I want to leave my home? Or any of those who love me?"

Leck clapped his hands together this time. "Now, Lucy, my dear, I will ask you a few more questions. You will answer them, and not ask why. Do you know this man?" he asked, gesturing to Edmund.

Edmund felt daggers through his heart at Lucy's answer.

"No," she said, confused in her fogged eyes.

Edmund could not remain quiet any more. "Lu, come on. You remember me. Some part of you—no matter how deep down—remembers me. You have to. Please. Just…look at me, and don't think about anything you think, or know, is true. Just…remember me."

Lucy inched away, apparently a bit afraid. "I'm sorry…you must be confusing me for someone else. I don't know who you are."

A few tears escaped his eyes, and fell down his chin. "Come on, _try._ Please. I'm begging you. You have to remember me, even a little. Try. Lu, just don't think and look at me, by the Lion!"

The fog seemed to wipe away entirely, and Lucy smiled as brightly as the sun. "You've never said that before." She whispered.

"So you do remember me!"

Then, just like that, without a single word from Leck, the fog was back, and Lucy stepped away more times than Edmund would have felt comfortable with; closer in towards Leck. "No. I've never seen you before in my life."

It was then that Leck spoke once more. "Wait a moment, Lucy. Perhaps you have seen this man once before. You remember one evening, after watching the Gracelings train, don't you?"

Lucy nodded, and then her eyes widened, and she took several more steps backward, finally remembering something about Edmund; but only the reasons for his arrest.

Edmund wanted to cry openly at this point, and he was torn between doing so, and ripping Leck to shreds on the very spot.

Lucy, meanwhile, gripped her head once more. Her headache was worse than usual; the gray fog had taken over her brain completely, swarming like bees at such a volume that she thought her head would burst. It had gotten worse since that boy had said that strange phrase, "By the Lion." It sounded oddly familiar to Lucy, although she could not tell you where it was she had heard it before. Now that this came up, she realized that she could not tell you anything at all.

Then, suddenly, without warning, a streak of golden light shone through the fog, much like it did on the day she was attacked, and she scarcely remembered this, if at all. However, this time through, it remained, and swirled. Instead of merely staying a fog, it seemed to begin to make shapes, and form into something; no longer merely air, but a solid thing. And this thing, was a Lion. Brilliant and dangerous, Lucy saw immediately who it was.

_Aslan! _She cried inside her head, and almost lurched backwards with her body, still stuck inside Leck's throne room, from what Aslan did next.

The great Lion let off a low growl, his teeth shining in such a wondrous way that it was frightening. "Lucy," he roared inside her head. Such a roar it was; it shook her to the marrow of her bones, and she was overwhelmed with too many feelings to even begin to list. "You have forgotten me."

Lucy began to cry outwardly, but her voice still remained inside her head when she whimpered to Aslan, "I'm sorry. I… I—I didn't mean to!"

"You have forgotten yourself, your people, and me. Remember who you are. Remember where you are from. Remember me."

With that, the golden Lion began to fade once more in the fog, the great golden fog, and Lucy shouted, again inside her head, "No! Aslan! Wait, please!"

But, he left all the same.

For the first time, in years, Lucy's mind was completely free of fog. There was not a trace of gold or gray to be seen. For, it was now that Aslan had given her the strength, and this was her discharge from Leck's power. The Monsean king's power and influence over the Narnian princess was gone; he could no longer convince her that the sky was blue, or that her name was in fact Lucy. She now saw him for what he was, and nothing he could say could change that.

Her eyes flashed over to Edmund, and thinking speedier than she ever had before, said, "You," gesturing to Edmund, and walking closer to him, ignoring the perplexed look on both Edmund and Leck's faces, and trying to seem indifferent, before it melted away, her true feelings of terror shone through, and she whispered. "_Run." _

Off both Lucy and Edmund flew, out of the throne room, and they continued running, even though neither Leck nor any of his guards chased after them. Edmund dragged her though a secret passage, the very same he carried her though when she was bleeding, and they ran until they reached their chambers. Once they did so, they slammed the door shut, and Lucy collapsed against it, tears streaming from her eyes, and panting like never before.

She had forgotten Aslan. She couldn't believe it. How could she have forgotten the great Lion, even for a second? At the words of a wicked king. Lucy cried openly and for a long time. Edmund sat next to her, unknowing what was truly disturbing her, but put his arm around her shoulders and let her weep.

Not knowing what she even saw, Edmund would not know exactly what made the Narnian princess weep like that, but if it is still confusing with the knowledge of what she saw, allow me to elaborate. To Lucy, everything began and ended with Aslan. He sang the whole world into existence; he saved Narnia on a regular basis; the creator and savoir of her whole world. With every question, every little choice, the questions of Aslan's opinions on the matter would always have to be asked (although, admittedly, Lucy was guilty of making many choices without asking these questions, but she tried to whenever faced with a big decision). With this knowledge, think on how it would feel, to have the creator of the world, tell you that you had simply forgotten about them. Under a stupid spell, and you were too weak to remember the most important thing in the world.


	18. The Dawn Treader

**A/N: I'm finally back, baby! After an unforseen month long hiatus! However, sadly, I still won't be updating as often as I'd like; for exams are coming up soon, and let's just say I'm in danger of possibly failing two classes, or at least getting grades lower than what my dad wants me to get. Which will mean less computer time in general. But, hopefully, next trimester, I will have more free time, so I can get back to fanfiction properly. Well, I hope you enjoy this chapter, though I warn you, I went through almost ten drafts of it, and I'm not happy with it, but it's been a whole month. So. Yeah. Screw quality. And ICness. :D **

The road to Monport was long, wearying, and, what seemed to be the worst possible attribute, quiet. In the steady quiet they were, it seemed to come with a guarantee of paranoia. This guarantee of paranoia was the worst thing that Edmund had to bear with.

They didn't speak, perhaps only once or twice to request to rest or have a drink of water. Edmund lead the group, pretending that he knew the road like the back of his hand. In all honesty, he had never been on the road himself, at least not in his living memory. His entire life, he had spent in Leck City, other than the short period in his infancy before his eyes changed color, but he did not remember that anyway.

He didn't want to, but for a while, he let his mind wander to a place that he scarcely let it wander to before. Never had he really pondered this before; for in his earlier life, he had a family of Peter and Susan, and they were all he needed. When that family had been murdered, he went into a state of mourning and survival, and could care less about family; but now, in the quiet of traveling, and seeing all the little houses along the road to Monport, he allowed himself to wonder about it.

Perhaps, as a baby, he had been the twelfth child, perhaps they were poor farmers, and it had been a relief to have their youngest relieved off their hands. What if his family had been city folk? Living in Leck City itself, or Monport? If he had been the first child? Or perhaps the third? Were they sad to see him go? Or, like everyone else in the Seven Kingdoms, had they been afraid of him, and grateful when he left? There was no use to wondering about this, and he knew it. What was done was done. But, the silence gave him something to think of, as the uncertainty of the immediate future made him nervous, and he needed something different to think about as he walked.

Lucy was still rather out of it, as she followed numbly between Edmund and Tumnus, who had insisted on taking up the rear. She stared at her feet, with the cloak round her neck in the middle of the day, as though she were cold. Edmund didn't think she was thinking about much of anything. She hadn't been able to bring herself to tell him what had happened, only that something had happened involving Aslan, and what Edmund could deduce made him figure that the Lion wasn't exactly pleased with her at the time.

They made camp under trees with little scanty fires made of dried leaves and small twigs, that ended up as mostly smoke. It kept them warm enough at night, however, and they did not need to cook their suppers, as Edmund had packed bacon and things that would not need cooking.

On the third night of traveling, however, Tumnus revealed that he had, ingeniously, smuggled some cornmeal and carrots into his own saddlebag, and thus, he put in a little of the bacon, along with the cornmeal and carrots, and thus the group had a crude soup once they boiled some water. It didn't taste nearly as good as those the Graced cooks made back in Leck City, or nearly as good as those the Narnian cooks made in the east, but it was much more filling than the measly strips of bacon they had had the past two days.

"You know," Lucy said, breaking the silence, and speaking for the first time since they left the castle. "I always used to wish that I could have bacon. Now I think I've had enough to last me a lifetime."

They all smiled, uttering out a silent laugh, and then returned into silence. Lucy was done with it. She realized that she had only been contributing to the silence so far, and yet, she could feel the stress on all three of them, and perhaps a little noise would relieve that.

"Tumnus," she asked, "you didn't happen to pack your flute with you, did you?"

The faun blinked. "Why, yes, I did. Why do you ask?"

"Do you think that, maybe, you could play something? I haven't heard a Narnian lullaby in…well, it seems like forever." Lucy asked, hopefully.

"I haven't played in so long…your lullaby probably won't sound anything like one."

"That's all right," Lucy insisted, and at last brought the faun to take out his instrument and to begin to play.

It was an enchanting tune, beautifully haunting, so Edmund thought as he fixed up the fire. When he sat back, he was rather surprised to find Lucy sitting then next to him, with her hand out to him. He took it, and they sat together while Tumnus played beautiful music late into the night.

Once midnight passed, and they were all laying flat on their backs, falling asleep, when Lucy turned on her side to face Edmund once more. "Ed?" she asked. "Are you awake?"

"I don't think there's a way for me to sleep, what with knowing that Leck could come after us any time." Edmund said, monosyllabically.

Lucy frowned. "Do you really think he will? Come after us, I mean."

"I know he will." Edmund said, reaching out to stroke Lucy's cheek. "And I'm going to do everything I can to make sure you're all right."

Looking down at the ground, Lucy mumbled. "What I don't understand is…why me? Out of everyone in Monsea…he chose to want to hurt me."

"Lu," Edmund sighed, "Leck was looking for someone to dominate. And you also, more or less, came with an entire country with you. He could've taken Narnia, and he was probably looking to. But, don't think about that, Lu. Let's just get to Caspian's ship, and take it from there."

Lucy closed her eyes. "I'll try not to. Edmund? I love you."

"I love you, too, Lucy." Edmund kissed her on the forehead, before retreating back onto the ground to stare up at the sky, and for the first time, beginning to wonder, where exactly everything was going.

XXXXXXX

Monport was a busy, bustling city, with many rude, dirty passersby dashing through the streets, all thinking that their concern was the most important thing in the world. Many people stopped to stare at the threesome trudging through the streets. Oh, the girl wasn't terribly alarming; but why was such a young woman traveling with such men, so different, queer, and almost demonic looking because of their differences. Her reasons, frankly, they did not want to know; and they had no business to concern for looking into them, as long as they all steered clear of them.

Of course, this didn't make it easy when Edmund went about asking where they could find the ship known as the _Dawn Treader. _No one wished to answer to a Graceling, even though they all assumed his Grace was worthless, they still did not want his mismatched eyes looking at them.

At last, he found a Graceling, sitting in an alley, around a pile of garbage and other wastes.

"You aren't from around here," the Graceling said, flipping her greasy hair over one shoulder to the other. "Your clothes are too fine. Even the girl's are. And that goaty creature you've got with you. Some would find that strange."

Edmund nodded. "We're from the North. Up in the mountains, over near Estill." Edmund lied rather quickly, but believably enough. "They're both from the far North."

"That explains the accent." The Graceling muttered. "I heard you all talking. What's your Grace, brother?" she asked.

Edmund was unused to this sense of brotherhood amongst the worthless Gracelings. He supposed it all made sense. They did not have the opportunities that the Graced like Edmund had had. They must have had to seek brotherhood amongst all of them, and not only a select group, as was the opportunity inside the castle.

Once again, lying quickly, Edmund said, "I can drink thirty pints of wine without slowing or slurring."

The woman nodded. "I see. I myself can swim twenty miles. I would have thought that King Leck might have use for it, but no. I was taken away when I was just a babe. I heard my twin brother was also Graced—a rare occurrence indeed—but I heard that he was still in the castle. A swords master, as I heard it."

Edmund nodded abruptly. There was that feeling again. The feeling that he knew nothing of what his life would have been if he hadn't been Graced. After all, there was the chance that this woman was his sister, providing he had been a twin in the first place. His life would have been quite different. Then again, he had loved having Susan as a sister of sorts, and Peter as a brother. They had been as close as siblings ever could be. He did not know if it would have been worth it to be socially accepted by not having a Grace, in having the life that he would have beforehand. But, alas, this was something he'd never know. It was a terrible thing, how the way people feared things that were different, and how it could change a person's life completely—but such was the culture of the Seven Kingdoms.

"Do you know where the foreign ship called the _Dawn Treader_ is docked? Her fiancé," Edmund swallowed as he gestured to Lucy, hating to lie in this way, feeling rather ill and unsure exactly why he was elaborating in this manner, "owns the ship, and it's my job to return her to him."

The Graceling nodded. "Well, you've obviously never seen her fiancé's ship before now." She shook her head. "If either of you had, you'd know it the moment you saw it. Go forward to the docks, and look until you see a small ship with the head and tale of a dragon and great sails, and Narnian and Telmarine flags. And there you have your _Dawn Treader_. It's very Narnian-looking all together. Where is it you're headed with the prin-girl?" she asked.

"Out to sea," Edmund said, suddenly wary. "Restoring her to her fiancé is my job, I know no more."

Thus, he rushed Lucy and Tumnus towards the docks. That Graceling had been correct; it was rather distinct to find the ship they were looking for. Great waxed wood, with bright paint and made to look, indeed, like a great dragon, with a green, scaly head and tail. The sails were a deep purple color with gold lions drawn on them, contrasting the bright blue of the sky.

They stood near the great boat, unsure how it was they were to clamber into it, as there was no bridge drawn. They paced in the general area, until a tall, impressive man with a baldhead came forth and addressed Lucy. "Princess Lucy of Narnia?" he asked.

Lucy nodded unsurely.

"Your highness," The man gave a bow to her. "I am Drinian, captain of the _Dawn Treader._ Prince Caspian told me to find you and bring you and your traveling companions on board as swiftly as possible. If you'll come…" he said, and directed the three of them onto the ship.

Lucy wasn't introduced to the crew until long after they had set sail, instead, Drinian had instead directed her to a cabin where she was to stay. The room was hers and hers alone for the voyage, however long it would last. Lucy looked about, and found that she loved the room instantly. It had three square windows, looking over the crashing waves, cushioned benches that looked softer than anything in Monsea had ever been, and a delicate silver lantern swinging from the roof. If there were one thing she could have changed, she would have grabbed the shield with the image of Aslan on it and hung it up beside the door. But other than that? It all looked so completely Narnian, that she fell in love with it instantly, finally coming to terms with how much she had missed Narnia all this time.

She unpacked her saddlebag, to find that there was not very much there to unpack. Her belt, with the dagger and that queer vial was on her, and there were only a few crumbs of food and her old cloak inside the bag. The peasant's dress she had been wearing was dirty and worn too thin to be comfortable to wear in the sea breeze, especially at night, and so she began to look through a chest at the foot of her bed.

She found several pairs of sailor's trousers, along with a long bagging shirt and tight red and blue doublets. She shrugged and, mindful of her arm, changed into the trousers and shirt. She laughed at the sight in the mirror; it all hanged off her so. At last, she found a rope for a belt, and once she fastened it, she still thought it looked strange and unseemly, but less so. At last she pulled the doublet down over her head and secured it round her waist. When she looked in the mirror now, it was less startling. The shirt wasn't so loose, nor the trousers, and it was comfortable, quite a bit more than dresses ever were. And she smiled to herself. She hadn't really cared about her reflection in a long time, and it seems she only ever did when the opportunity was given to her.

Shrugging, finding it futile to look at her own reflection, she looked over to the bed. It appeared as though the blankets were made of a heavy silk, and all the cushions and pillows were filed with the finest goose's down (not a _talking _goose, of course). Lucy wanted to plunge into the sheets the moment she saw it, but looking did give her pause. It was all so clean. And immediately, she began searching about for a place to take a bath.

She found a bathtub, already filled with water, inside a closet. The water looked clean, so she assumed it was meant for her and she took off her clothes and stepped into it, and immediately gave a little cry. The water was so cold! She felt gooseflesh rise on her arms instantly, but she persisted and gave herself a good scrubbing and rubbed her scalp with a bar of soap, until she found that she was clean, however shivering all the while.

After changing back into her sailor's clothes, she sprung backwards on the bed, and she never thought she had ever felt something so soft! Unable to help herself, Lucy dove deeper into the blankets to be rid of the cold from her bath, and the moment her head touched the pillow she was asleep.

XXXXX

Even in clothes that were designed for living on the sea, Lucy found herself shivering when she was called out onto the main deck of the _Dawn Treader _for introductions. She didn't know how long they had been at sea, but both the sea and sky were black, with the only lights being lanterns the sailors held and the shimmering stars in the sky, no city lights from Monport shown in even the farthest distance.

She was able to make out Edmund rather quickly, with his bright amber and green eyes, standing between the mixed Telmarine and Narnian crew. She smiled at him, and he grinned slightly back, with something confusing in his face.

There, for the first time ever since Lucy left Narnia, the large number seemed to cut off at the waist, their heads bobbing slightly in the bow, as murmurs of, "Your highness," filled the air.

Standing there, as the Narnians and even Telmarines bowed to her, and gave her the respects that her title deserved, Lucy couldn't help but shake a feeling. It was like she trying to squeeze her foot into a boot that no longer fit; and no matter how she twisted the leather, how she shook and stretched the boot, she couldn't make it fit as well as it used to.

Her eyes met Edmund's, and to her surprise, they seemed upset, and equally surprised, as though something very obvious had only just occurred to him and he bowed back, lowering his head even more than the sailor's.

Lucy couldn't tell you why; but it broke her heart to see that.

Caspian, who had kept his head a bit higher than the sailors had when he had bowed, stood upright, taking Lucy's hand in his, raising it to the sky, and saying, "I present to you all, at long last, Princess Lucy of Narnia; alive, and well."

XXXXX

To say that Edmund was mad would be a vast understatement. He was furious. Everyone on board the _Dawn Treader _seemed under the impression that they were taking the princess back to Narnia. The idiots. He kept on trying to explain the situation to them; that Leck would find them, wherever they were, but Narnia was the obvious. "She'll be dead in two weeks at the most if we take her back to Narnia!" Edmund said, slamming his fist down on the table.

"Well, what do you suggest?" Drinian said, seeming to believe that there was no other option, and that the Graceling was only being a bit dramatic.

"Calormen," Edmund said, quickly, for he had been thinking about it for a while. "It's the best option. The Calormenes aren't very friendly with Narnians, so it isn't obvious. Archenland is friends, so that's definitely out. Telmar would be even worse. Since, the Telmarine prince is doing this…"

"How would they know that Prince Caspian is the one responsible for taking the princess away?" The first mate asked.

Edmund frowned, "I'd be surprised if it didn't. Someone in the search party must have told them that Prince Caspian was leading them. He would've asked. And since Prince Caspian wasn't there at all, he would have figured it out. He's smart. Just because he's used to everyone giving him everything he asks for doesn't mean that he's stupid."

Still, no one seemed to be terribly fond of the idea of leaving Lucy in Calormen, but Edmund went on. "It wouldn't be forever. She'll have to be nomadic for the rest of her life. But, Calormen is probably the best bet. There's bound to be an herbal supplement or something that will help her tan and stay that way, and some minerals that will darken her hair, so she won't stand out. If we change even what she looks like, it'll be harder for Leck to find her straightaway. And then, we could continue going south, to whatever lays under Calormen…and maybe we can evade Leck as long as possible."

"What about Tumnus?" Lucy asked, not much wanting to go to Calormen anyway, but addressing her first concern first.

Edmund sighed, stepped toward the princess, "I'm sorry. I don't know where he's going to go. But he can't come with us. Maybe he can go back to Narnia, and tell your parents you're all right. Anywhere else in the world, a faun walking with two people would be an obvious tell."

"And what about you?" Caspian intervened, "A boy with two different colored eyes would be an obvious tell as well, wouldn't it?"

"I'll wear an eye patch." Edmund reasoned. "We'll make ourselves look like different people."

Caspian frowned, and brought up, solely to make a point, "And it has to be you, doesn't it? It couldn't be me and her. You won't let it."

"I need to make sure she's all right." Edmund responded evenly. "I'd follow if you want to take her yourself. But, you have your own Telmarine people to think of, don't you?"

This was only the beginning of many different arguments like that. Almost every day, Edmund, Caspian, Drinian, and the others would go into the port cabin, and attempt to decide on the next route. Lucy, having enough of the augmenting from the men from the first day, would sit on the decks, and simply stare off at the horizon. She found that she loved breathing in the salty air, with the sea breeze on her cheeks. The sun seemed brighter, the sky was bluer, and the sea looked wetter from the deck of the _Dawn Treader_, and Lucy would just sit on a barrel, and stare at the sunlight reflected off the water. The lights and the whitecaps on the waves were so promising to her; it made her feel a sort of freedom that she had not truly felt within her lifetime.

Once, when Lucy was sitting about the deck, Edmund came towards her, and sat beside her. "Well, Lu," he said, "It's finally decided; you and I are going to Calormen. Tumnus isn't going back to Cair Paravel, but he'll be back in Narnia…though he won't be able to safely contact your parents again, I'm sorry."

"Calormen." Lucy said, trying to swallow away the foul taste in her mouth. "Why do we have to keep on running?"

"You know why," Edmund sighed, halfway angrily, and wondering if she was acting stupid on purpose or if she was only being annoyingly optimistic. "Leck's going to look for you. You can't get out of this; and I'm not leaving you. We're stuck."

"What if he doesn't come after me?" Lucy persisted.

"He's going to."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I know him and I know how he works." Edmund grabbed Lucy's shoulders. "We've gone over this a hundred times at least."

"But," Lucy said again, staring out into the open water. "you have to keep hope, that maybe, we can get out of this mess."

Edmund paused, and then finally said, "Love, you know that I want to wish that the best will happen…"

Then, Lucy cut him off, rather abruptly. "No, actually. I don't know. Honestly, it's starting to seem like you're just abandoning all hope; just because you're so sure that the worst will happen."

"When push comes to shove, hope is just the _distraction_. The entire time I was watching the only family I ever knew bleed to death at that hands of that man, when I walked in on you on the floor, dying, I was hoping that I was imagining things. So, _hope_? Yes, I am abandoning it all."

The Narnian princess turned to look the Graceling square in the eyes, she frowned, faltered, and said, "But, then, what happens when it's all you have left?"

Edmund rolled his eyes. "Oh, come _on_. Just because you've literally lived in an ivory tower your whole life up until last year doesn't mean that you don't understand what's going on here! Stop acting like a child. You can't tell me that there's good in all people! Do you know how unbearable you are to be around sometimes?"

"Oh, well, if I'm unbearable than I'd love to hear what you think you're like." Lucy muttered under her breath, more from irritation and to herself than anything else, getting angry herself.

"Be my guest." Edmund growled.

"Oh? Well, fine." Lucy said, crossing her arms at her chest. "You're a pessimist. The worst doesn't always have to come out of everyone and every situation. You've got _no_ imagination to what good could happen, and whenever anyone tries, you have to take it away the minute you see it."

"Because you're not being…realistic." Edmund caught himself in an eerily familiar phrase, that he himself had not uttered before, and he paused, uncertain.

Lucy frowned, and continued, "And, no matter how much I tell you that I love you, you still refuse to believe that you're worth anything. And Aslan knows where you've got that impression, since I think you're worth more than anyone else I've ever met. And anyone who takes the time to know you can see what's in you. But, instead of seeing everything that everybody else sees in you, you just sit and sulk."

"You might call it sulking, I call it surviving."

Lucy put her hands on her hips. "I really don't think what I'm talking about has anything whatsoever to do with what you're talking about. And I wish you'd stop using that excuse and hiding behind it because you're afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"I don't know. Maybe you're afraid that if you stop, you'll actually be happy. And maybe you think that would be an insult to your life and all of those who you lost."

Here, Edmund continued to look angry with the Narnian princess, until something behind her caught his eye. He stared at it, a gruesome look on his face, and then his eyes grew larger, and he muttered, "Oh, -."

"And then there's that." Lucy muttered.

"No," Edmund shook his head. "Lucy, you don't understand. Look! Out there…I thought it was just a random merchant ship. But, no, it's…it's leading a whole group. I can't count, but there's a lot of them."

Lucy furrowed her brows. "What?"

He gestured over to the open sea, and sure enough, there was a rather large-looking ship with bright white sails leading what came off as a complete wall just made of ships, all twice the size of the _Dawn Treader, _and all fast, cutting through the water like hundreds of pins and needles.

"Lucy, those ships are Monsean. It's a whole fleet of them. Leck knew more than I thought."


	19. Interruption

Edmund turned on his heels instantaneously and darted towards theport cabin with Lucy fast on his heels. He slammed his way through the doors and, placing his fists on a large wooden desk, and said directly to Drinian and Caspian, "We need to figure something out, or all hell is going to break out."

Drinian, who had been working on maps and routes with Caspian when the two had been interrupted, said gruffly, "We noticed. But it's a ship on the open sea, there's only so many places it can go."

Edmund slammed his fist into the desk once more. "Can it outrun them?"

"I doubt that." Drinian mumbled. "She wasn't built for racing."

Caspian spoke up here, "There has to be _something _we can do."

"Why do we need to do anything at all?" Lucy asked, and to the men's strange stares said, "If there's anything I remember, it's what whenever Leck tried to hurt me, he didn't drag me kicking and screaming. He tried to convince me to…to just let him have the advantage…" 

Edmundshook his head. "That is his usual method, but why else would he send in a whole fleet of warships after you?"

"I don't know!"

"Maybe he knows that you aren't influenced by him anymore," Edmund said, "he must have caught on; and maybe he's just going to take try and take you!"

"He wouldn't get anything out of it!" Lucy just about shouted. "If there's anything you've tried to drill into my brain it's that he's all some sort of…aphrodisiac to him."

Edmund paused. "I haven't been giving you enough credit. Why haven't I seen that you've actually understood what I've been telling you all along?"

Lucy nodded, not harshly, but with complete honesty, and said, "Maybe you just haven't been looking. I'm not nearly as fogged as I was before. And I'm not stupid."

"Oh, Lu, I've never meant…" Edmund began, until Drinian cut him off.

"There's still the matter of what to do with the princess. The whole crew will be unnerved by the ships coming up. And it seems as though it wouldn't be a good idea to allow anyone to speak with anyone on those ships, if they're at all interested in talking."

Lucy faced the captain. "I honestly don't think we have to hide me, or anything like that!"

"We're not going to just let them take you." Edmund said, taking a protective step closer to her.

Lucy put her hands on the Graceling's shoulders. "I didn't say that, did I?"

Caspian looked up from the window, beside which he had been sitting up until now. "What do you have up your sleeve, Lucy?"

Lucy turned to face the Telmarine. "Nothing for sure," she said. "But, Caspian? Drinian? How far east are we exactly?"

Drinian wrinkled his eyebrows, and it was Caspian who answered. "We're far south of the western Telmarine border. But, just about there. Why?"

Lucy smiled, and said, "And the water; it's the same waters as the Eastern sea, isn't it?"

As Caspian nodded, as Edmund wrinkled his brow and asked, "What are you on about?"

Lucy, however, seemed not to hear Edmund, as she went on, "Does that mean, Drinian, that some of the people who live in the waters, might, just maybe, live this far west, too?"

Drinian nodded. "Perhaps, I'm not sure but…"

Here, Caspian's face lit up. "Lucy!" he said, "I think that's possibly the best idea you've had."

Edmund wrinkled his own brow, "What idea?"

Caspian then went to the wall, and opening up a great glass case, he took out an ivory horn. The moment she saw it, Lucy's eyes lit up. She sprang up and said, "Is that really…how ever did you get it?"

"Your father gave it to us on the expedition to find you, just in case." Caspian winked.

"What is it?" Edmund shouted.

Once again, Edmund's question remained unanswered. He peered over through the frosted window, to see Lucy and Caspian leaning far out over the sea, Caspian put his lips to the ivory horn he had previously taken out of the cabinet, and blew a long, mournful note. It wasn't mournful, nor musical, but there was something chilling about it all the same. He continued to watch the two royals over the railing, and cocked his brow as Lucy began waving frantically to something deep below.

"Would you be willing to take me and a friend of mine to the nearest shore as fast as you can? In the opposite direction of all those ships?"

Edmund could not hear anything from where he was standing, but his confusion arose even more when he heard Lucy's next reaction, "Oh, thank you! Thank you! Come around to starboard, and we'll get into a lifeboat. Thank you."

Caspian ran into the cabin once more, grabbed a crossbow, and held it out to Edmund. "You might need this," he said, as Edmund shrunk backwards.

"I don't even know how to hold that…that _thing_."

Caspian lifted his brow. "Well, you might want to learn; since I have no idea where exactly you'll be once you reach land."

Edmund exhaled sharply. "What in the world is going on here? Care to explain?"

Caspian spoke slowly, "Lucy's talking to a mermaid out there…"

"Mermaids?" Edmund arched his eyebrow skeptically.

"They're real all right," Drinian cut in, looking down at the map.

Caspian nodded. "They're going to drag a lifeboat to the nearest piece of land, as quickly as they can. We're going to try and lead Leck's ships on a wild goose chase, while you two hide out for a while. And we'll come and get you once they're off us. In the meantime, you might need this," he handed Edmund the crossbow once more, and this time the Graceling took it, and the Telmarine continued. "For safety purposes and for food."

Edmund nodded, and took the bow; feeling the awkward weapon in his hands, how it just didn't fit in his fingers, and he saw the lack of control he had, and the first question that popped through his brain, of course, was, how did Susan do it?

The next thing Edmund knew, he was helping Lucy into a lifeboat, and listening to Caspian and Drinian give him instructions for staying on the island over Tumnus's bouts of tears. He nodded as the sailor and Telmarine prince told him what was in the pack they had stuffed into the bottom of the little boat; a tarp and rope to make a tent, blankets, flint and steel for fires, as well as some food put into Edmund and Lucy's knapsacks.

"I don't know how long it's going to take us to lose them," Drinian said, "So, you have to be able to a while on your own. Both of you. Do you think you two can manage?"

Edmund nodded gruffly, and Lucy muttered her affirmation as they lowered the boat onto the rocking waves of the sea. Lucy sat down on the narrow seat, and threw out a fraying rope into the water. The mermaid sprang up from the waves, grasping the rope in her wet hands. The mermaid went under the water, and suddenly, the lifeboat lurched forward at amazing speed; it was faster even than a single stallion running downhill. It was an experience that no human-no human from the West-had ever experienced before. It was more elevating and incredible than anything any Grace could spurt out. He should have simply been breath taken and enjoyed the ride in momentary safety, however, he could not. His mind was swarming, and being a man, he could not break his thoughts from those concerning how to keep Lucy safe, and the ride was wasted before it began.

XXXXXXXX

A tall Graceling with a hooked nose and rather dirty fingernails looked out over the railing of the Monsean naval ship. His Grace, one of sight, made it easy to understand what it was he was seeing; but that made it no easier to believe it. The Narnian princess and the traitor, the boy who kidnapped her as King Leck had told them, were speeding inside a little boat the opposite way, at astounding speed. In fact, if he had not seen the fishlike person in the water, he would have thought he went mad. However, King Leck had warned them how queer, and dangerous, the Eastern lands were, and thus they were all prepared for monsters, and Dark Magic.

His eyes followed the little boat, until he identified where it was they were hiding, and took off at a sprint to his king's cabin. He knocked at a rapid pace, and waited for permission to enter.

It took a moment or two, but finally, Leck's kind voice carried over the wood of the door, "Come in," he said, "if you have a reason to. If not, I'm afraid we've had an accident, that I ought to take care of."

The hooked nose Graceling stepped through the door to see a girl Graceling, sitting on the floor, looking and smelling as though she had just been sitting in garbage, with a single, shallow cut, long and red down her throat. The poor girl must have had a terrible accident! The Graceling thought, and it was a good thing that King Leck was there to take care of things.

"What is it?" the king said, setting a knife down on his desk, after wiping it with a handkerchief, now spotted with red. "What have you seen?"

The Graceling nodded at attention, "The traitor is taking the princess away. I'm sure he caught sight of us, and fled in knowing he'll be apprehended for his appalling crimes…how could anyone do such things? And to your guests…"

"Yes, yes. Go on." Leck said, somewhat impatiently, although the Graceling boy didn't notice, even though he got a sudden urge to finish his story as quickly, and concisely as possible.

"They're heading for the mainland, it looks like, and at this speed, they'll be there by nightfall."

"Damn." Leck frowned. "Well, we must save our little friend, mustn't we? Give this message to the sailors; I shall board a smaller ship with our best sailors and begin pursuit of them. The rest of you must stay in line and pursue the larger ship. We must make the transition at nightfall. Go now. And leave us."

The Graceling nodded, with his message, and closing the door tightly behind him, he felt a sense of pride welling up in him. It was a happy thing, he thought. His Grace had actually come in usefully; perhaps now he would have a position in the castle himself now! After all, he was helping to save the Narnian princess.

XXXXX

"Thank you!" Lucy called out to the mermaid, as the creature waved good-bye and disappeared again into the depths of the sea.

Edmund smiled slightly at the Narnian princess. Some things just refused to change. Lucy was one of them. He watched her as she turned towards him.

"What are you staring at?" she asked, catching up to him.

Shaking his head, Edmund murmured, "Nothing."

Lucy shrugged and turned around to analyze her surroundings, Edmund followed suit, realizing he should have been doing that earlier, rather than staring at Lucy, so that he could have formulated a plan. They were standing on a large sandy beach, connected to what he had to assume was the mainland, with hazy mountains far off in the distance, and an enormous green forest sitting before that.

"So, I say that we head off towards the trees. We'll be better hidden, and as long as I've got my sword, we won't have to worry about any wild animals. And then, we can just wander around in this area and such until Caspian comes back." Edmund spoke, picking up the packs that they had shoved into the little boat. The boat, he thought, and could have hit himself in the head. "But first we have to conceal this thing."

Lucy nodded, "Edmund," she said after a moment. "A mermaid helped us to shore."

"Yes, I saw that," Edmund said, confusedly, wondering what she was getting at.

"Well, that means that we're somewhat close to the eastern sea. Which means that we're getting close to Narnia…" she began, shuffling her feet, before Edmund cut her off.

"We've been over this! And over this. And over this." Edmund snapped, "Why won't you listen to me?"

"I _listen_." Lucy put her hands on her hips. "I'm just not so sure that I agree. Aslan will come. Maybe not now, maybe not as soon as we want him to. But, he will. When we really need him…"

Edmund pursed his lips, softening. "I know that you really believe that. But it's my job to make sure you're all right. I can't leave your life up to chance."

"It's not chance; it's Aslan!"

"I'm going to set up camp now," Edmund muttered, fishing through the packs to lift out the tarp tent they had fit snugly into one of them. He made sure that his back was facing her, so that there was no way that Lucy could read either the frustration, or the confusion that was building up inside his brain. Lucy's blind faith seemed overtly idiotic, and dangerous, and yet, somehow, it seemed better to have faith in something, over nothing at all. Frankly, he wasn't sure what to believe; or even if it was a matter of belief or not.

XXXXX

When nighttime fell over the little makeshift camp Edmund and Lucy had comprised out of their little tarp tent and a small fire hidden in the underbrush and trees, neither one of them seemed to have any interest whatsoever in sleeping. Nor did they seem to want to talk. In fact, the quiet seemed even more venomous than during the long trek through Monsea, just to get through to the port. It was all together too much to take.

Somehow, Edmund had to break the silence. Thus, he said, "Look, Lu.I'm sorry that I've been so…disagreeable, lately…if that's even the word. It's just…all this Eastern religion, blind faith, Aslan and all that…well, it's just so different than anything I've ever lived with…but, well, it feels better than what I've had to live with before…I need to figure all this out; never mind what my initial instinct, and my Grace, says to do. Just give me the time I can buy, and…I'll say it again, I'm sorry."

Lucy was staring at the ground, sifting her hands through the dark soil. Edmund watched her closely for her reaction, seeing how the firelight danced across her face, and was surprised when she finally spoke.

"You honestly believe that we'll never get out of this, don't you?" she said, not waiting for his answer, since she knew it already. "Do you think we'll die tonight? Tomorrow? How much longer do you think we'll survive?"

Edmund swallowed, and it felt like sand in his mouth. Had Lucy finally broken? Had she really given up her hope just like that? He hadn't realized it before then, but he had, somehow, been counting on Lucy's optimism to keep his spirits up. Without it, it really did seem futile. "As long as we can make it," he responded after a moment.

"I know we'll make it." Lucy reached towards Edmund and grabbed his hand. "I've been dying my whole life. I'm all right with the idea. I just don't want you to get hurt. I've never wanted to hurt anybody."

"You're a princess. It's an occupational hazard," Edmund mumbled.

"I never asked for it. But, I guess we don't ask for many of the things that happen to us. But, right now, there is something that I want to ask for."

"What do you mean?" Edmund blinked, as Lucy turned to face him entirely.

Lucy breathed slowly, and then spoke, "No matter how short it's going to be-if it's the result of this or my sickness-my life's been different since I met you. My hemophilia doesn't rule my life anymore. I've always wanted to get away from it. And, with you, it doesn't matter so much. But…it's more than that. I love you, you know that. I just want to ask you…" she faded, her cheeks scarlet.

"What is it?" Edmund asked, holding her cheek with his hand, the other in her hand.

_"_Edmund, I'm asking you if you'll marry me when we get out of this mess." Lucy said plainly. "And I still believe that we will, and if we don't? At least we'll always have a few things. Aslan, hope, and each other."

Edmund could have been knocked over with a feather. Had she really just proposed to him? Even though they had been doing little but argue in those days?. "What about," Edmund stammered. "Your disease?"

There was more standing in the way of them than that, but the world was spinning underneath him.

Lucy shrugged. "I'm not sure."

More than anything, Edmund wanted to say yes, albeit the unconventional way of her proposing to him, but then again, what was conventional about Lucy? His mind was spinning, but, for whatever reason, he didn't want to let common sense or reason get in the way of all the possibilities this opened up.

Suddenly, behind them in the bushes, the two heard a soft clapping noise. "Well, then," a stunningly cold voice said, "isn't this just a beautiful sight?"

Spinning around as quickly as possible, Edmund and Lucy found themselves facing King Leck, astride a powerful-looking stalliton. Behind him merely four Gracelings, two of them on horseback, the other was Corin, and the last the very same girl who had sat in the garbage in Monport, completely the same as when Edmund last saw her, only with a single, fresh scar running down her face.

Edmund jumped onto his feet instantly. He drew out his sword, and held it out at the ready, knowing that he had no chance at winning, but trying to figure out a way to get Lucy out. His mind spinning, Lucy had to get away. The question was how to get her there.

"We have been looking for the princess so dreadfully long," Leck said with a silky voice, dismounting his stallion, with the two other Gracelings following suit. "And now that we have found her, we may now joyously return home, and give this traitor the fate he deserves—at the fall of the guillotine. Now, come along dear Lucy, you have been through quite a bit, through your kidnapping."

"No." Lucy called, "I won't go with you."

This seemed to surprise both Leck and Edmund, for neither of them had been quite aware that Lucy had become completely immune to Leck's words in their entirety.

However, Leck was not discombobulated for long, for he turned to his soldiers, and shouted. "She has been confused! Oh, no! How perfectly dreadful! We must not resort to force, though, for that would make her confusion worsen. We must discover a way to make her see reason," and with this, he snapped his long, spindly fingers.

With that moment, it seemed to Lucy's eyes as if one of Leck's Graced soldiers twitched, but in a half a second more, Edmund was not at her side, but held with his hands behind his back, at Leck's feet. The Graceling who had appeared to twitch was not beside the other three, but holding Edmund down, with his own sword as his back. Somehow, perhaps it was the months upon months she had spent in Monsea, Lucy knew that that soldier was Graced with speed.

Edmund said nothing, but shot a lethal stare into Leck's single eye.

"Get up." Leck commanded, any pleasant façade he had once had in his voice had disappeared, and it honestly sounded like a monster.

Edmund was thrown onto his feet, and coming up towards him, he saw Corin. Still with that blank look on his face, only harder; as though the fighter could not remember the time when they had called themselves friends. Without a single word from the sandy-haired Graceling, Edmund took a hard blow to the stomach, doubling over.

"No!" Lucy cried out, attempting to get between the two, but with a line of Gracelings separating her, though not so much that she could not see anything.

It was a severe case of two against one, and that could only be said if Edmund was able to fight back. The boy Graced with speed held him down, while Corin boxed him with sickening precision in the stomach, face, and just about anywhere. Only mere seconds had gone by, and Edmund was already sporting a black eye and split lip.

"No! Stop! Stop it!" Lucy cried, trying to fight her way through the Gracelings, hitting and kicking as hard as she could, while they simply stood stationery. "Fine!"

Edmund spit blood out of his mouth. "What are you saying?" he yelled.

Lucy inhaled slowly. "I'll…I'll go back." She said. "But, you have to let him go. Edmund has to be safe."

"Lucy! What are you talking about?' Edmund called. "You can't."

Running towards him, Lucy kneeled in front of him, putting her hands on his cheeks. "I'm fine," she said, "Everyone has to die; whether tonight or fifty years from now."

"But, you can't. Not now."

Lucy smiled lightly, "I should've died seven years ago." Then, she kissed his cheeks and pulled him into an embrace. Then, she whispered closely into his ear, "You have to trust me. I don't have a plan. But I have an idea. Aslan willing, it will work. Just…follow me."

Edmund used every restraint he had inside of himself not go give away an inkling of what he just heard. Years of practice would not suffice. It had never been more important, however. He watched carefully, as Lucy walked towards the king.

The world seemed to stand still as Leck arched his eyebrow, an evil grin painted across his face. Lucy walked by, hands by her side, looking pale. Edmund watched her closely, trying to figure out what she was trying to do. She was pale, but otherwise did not seem terribly nervous, that is, until he looked at her eyes.

Lucy walked silently, with her head up, until she and Leck reached a horse with an empty, jewel encrusted saddle. Without a word, and as quickly as she had ever done anything, Lucy drew out her dagger and thrust it into the thigh of the Monsean king.

Before anyone had time to react, she lifted herself up into the saddle, and kicked her heels into the beast's side. The horse reared for a moment, Lucy let out a sharp scream, and then the horse charged away, looking back at Edmund the whole time.

Two of the four Gracelings were instantly at their king's side, giving their aid, as Leck's shock lessened, he began screaming not to let Lucy get away, even though the princess had already disappeared into the shadows of the forest, and to bind the traitor.

Edmund, quick as a flash, elbowed the Graceling holding him back between his legs, forcing the boy to let go of his sword. Holding the sword out in front of him, he frowned to Corin. "I don't want to have to do this, mate." He said. "Can't you think of anything?"

Corin blinked, still confused, but, something came to him, a parting in the blank look on his eyes, a sense of realization, and he let his friend passed him.

Lifting himself up onto one of the other horses, Edmund used a whip lodged into the saddlebag to force the other Gracelings (who had finally left their king's aid to try and apprehend him) to scatter. He kicked the horse as hard as he could, darting off after Lucy, into the dark forest.


	20. The Final Fight

As it turned out, Lucy had managed to stop the stallion shortly after she left the eyeshot of the soldiers. Edmund had raced by so quickly, and it took her a moment to realize that he had been there and gone, but once she had, she kicked the beast once again and off she went after him.

Once she had caught up with him, she shouted, "Do you think they're coming after us now?"

Edmund grunted, as his mare leapt over a fallen log, "Why would the cat wait for the mouse to get away?"

Hereupon, Lucy's lips spread into a smile, and she even risked a laugh.

Frowning, Edmund dared to ask, "What's so funny?"

"We're mice." Lucy said, yelling to be heard over the world rushing by. "And, well, in Narnia, a lot of our bravest knights are talking Mice. It's amusing."

"It's nice to see you remembering more about Narnia again," Edmund mentioned, and then the two were silent; far more concerned with getting away.

When the night turned to day, however, they found it absolutely necessary to stop. Finding the biggest tree possible, with winding roots all around it, they took their horses and tied them up. Lucy reached around in the saddlebag for brushes, figuring they ought to cool them out.

Edmund thought they had bigger problems. They were far too tired to think rationally, he knew, but it was far easier for Leck to find them in broad daylight; and that might have been his plan to begin with; to wait until it was light, and they were tired, so that there wasn't to be a fight; so that they would give in. Edmund cursed all the spirits he could think of.

"Edmund!" Lucy called out, pointing into the tree. "Do you see that?"

"It's a squirrel." Edmund mumbled, thinking that perhaps tiredness took a greater toll on Lucy.

"But…it's not behaving like just any squirrel, now is it? Doesn't it look a bit…big?" Lucy had a grin plastered on her face, and she began waving frantically to it, screaming out, "Hallo!"

Edmund tried to shush her. "Lucy. It's a squirrel. You're too tired for…"

He was unable to finish, however, for the squirrel came down towards them, and said, quite clearly, "Hallo!"

Edmund jumped, and Lucy smiled, saying, "_Olen Prinzessen Lucy. __Freud aun Narnia neu__elyn__?_"

"_Freud_!" Cried the squirrel, "_Freud_! Oh, my, my! Princess! Your highness! How ever have you made this? Why, your whole country has been simply deboggled since we have discovered that you were missing! Oh, goodness! Friend or foe? Must you have even asked? Why...yes, yes. You ought to have. Yes, you ought. Now, how may I help you, your highness? _Am miyn leichen!" _

"Translation, please." Edmund uttered, still quite shocked at an animal speaking so clearly.

Lucy nodded. "'On my life,' he said."

"Good." Edmund muttered. "It might very well be."

Frowning, Lucy said to the squirrel. "Oh. Don't mind him. But, please, how close are we to Narnia?"

"If you pass this wood, there is a mountain range to the east," said the squirrel. "And on the other side is Narnia. I was only looking for where my grandfather was roumered to have kept a rather large keep of nuts. Might you have any ideas?"

"No, I'm afraid not." Lucy frowned. "But, if I might ask one more thing of you. There's someone who we think might be chasing us-a king, and he has an eyepatch. And he has four people with them, with multicolored eyes. Might you be able to go through the trees and see if they are coming near? Or where they are?"

The squirrel nodded, and off he went. Edmund looked admirably at the Narnian princess. Perhaps she was smarter than he often gave her credit for. And yet, she still seemed to be under the impression that they were going to Narnia. He didn't know what to think about it.

The squirrel did not return by midday, and it was at midday that Edmund decided they ought to forage on, saying that it was dangerous. "If Leck was able to influence you, Mr. Tumnus, and that dryad driver of yours, there's no saying he couldn't do the same to a talking Squirrel. And I know he can control the dumb ones easily enough."

Thus, they rode on, silently. The horses were kept at a walk for the most part, not wanting to tire the beasts out. They rode through miles of trees; it seemed as though the forest would never end. Lucy looked about and saw deer and phesants; wild boars and quails. She saw all sorts of woodland animals, and it almost reminded her of back home.

Oh! How much she found she missed Narnia! And now she was so close, she could all but taste it. She could almost see Cair Paravel in the back of her mind, with its ivory walls and familiar red and golden tapistries. Remembering the special balls, with all sorts of people, and be they furry, feathered, or humaniod, they were all equal under the ultimate rule of Aslan. The beach she remembered, too. The soft, hot sand and the blue water; so cold when it hit her bare skin. She found that she even missed her special spinach and beet breakfast. Why, she could all but see...

Suddenly, like a deep roar coming up from the very heart of the earth itself, came the pounding of uneven, irregular hoofbeats. Looking back, Lucy saw a single horse coming up behind them. On it, was King Leck, hitting the animal heavily with his riding crop.

"Edmund!" Lucy cried.

With another leap from the stallion, Edmund shouted back, "I know!"

Thus, the race was on. Edmund intentionally directed Lucy off the path, into a thicker part of the forest. They were dodging branches and bushes, tall rocks and grasses. Leck was directly on their path, and no matter how Edmund tried to confuse the Monsean king, he kept his single eye narrowed on Lucy.

Lucy, as she rode on, holding on for dear life, caught a flash of light out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head towards it, and instantly felt as though she was looking the wrong way. As she whipped her head around once more, she saw that it was not mere light-for it was golden, and completely there. In fact, it was a Lion. And not just any lion, for she knew that this was Aslan.

Edmund had jumped off his horse already, sending it in the opposite direction, hoping to provide a diversion for Leck, and then he ran, as fast as his legs would allow, after where he thought Lucy had gone.

By the time he reached the general area her horse was, he saw that he had been wrong to abandon his; for Leck was coming up, and nearly close enough to Lucy to merely grab her with an outstretched hand.

Lucy's horse sped onward, through the branches and trees, but it was beginning to tire. Lucy continued to ride, and hold on, kicking her heels into its side, over and over again. She knew Leck was only a hair away from her. But, it couldn't result badly; Aslan was there. He would make things right.

Just as she thought these things, on a large rock in front of her, Aslan appeared. He was so beautiful, with the way the light shone off his golden fur and mane, as though it were light itself. And then, he roared such a terrible roar, that the cowardly stallion Lucy was astride grew frightened, and reared.

This time, Lucy could not hold on, for her hands had grown too sweaty, and the next thing she knew, she was on the ground, with a horse running away near her, and an enormous, sharp rock lodged into her arm in part, the other part soaking up her blood.

Edmund watched in terror as the Lion standing on the rock, so terrifying, and yet, wonderful, leapt upwards. Lucy's horse reared, as the Lion soared above it, pouncing on Leck, and knocking him off his steed.

Unable to tear his eyes away, Edmund watched in fear as the great Lion pinned the twisted king, who no longer looked a thing like a king, merely a squabbling, disgusting, pale, sort of bug under this great Lion.

"Immiker," the Lion-Aslan-said, with a voice that sounded like nothing else Edmund had ever heard, but with such a growl that it could very possibly be lethal, "when you were young you wandered into Narnia and decided to make a game of some of my Talking Beasts. You were warned once never to harm my people, but you have done nothing else ever since."

Leck's eye merely widened, far larger than anyone else's that had ever been witnessed, and Aslan let out another terrifying growl, followed by a snarl and a sudden lurch towards the once-king's throat.

Edmund looked away, not even wishing to witness it, however well deserved it was for Leck. It was now that he realized that Lucy never stood up since she was knocked off her horse. He turned about himself to check on the princess and found all the blood draining from his face, and his stomach dropping to the ground, what felt like a knife through his heart.

The shrubbery around where Lucy fell off the equine was stained with red. Deep, crimson, still so wet. And there she lay, paler than snow, bleeding on the dirt. He was beside her in an instant, flat on his stomach, trying to get as close to her as possible. He was grasping her face in his palms. His own vision blurry through tears.

"Come on, Lucy," he whispered. "You're going to be all…you have to be…I—you—come on. Look at me."

She could hear him, that much was clear. The scent of iron was heavy in the air, the entire forest seemed to be a river of red, Lucy breathed heavily, and tried to make eye contact with Edmund, but the minute she tried to focus on any one thing, they glazed over, and her breathing became thin.

"I…" she said between shallow breaths, "can't…breathe. Hit…stone. My…back."

Not Lucy, Edmund couldn't help but think. Tears were freely falling from his eyes, and he didn't care. He was stained with her blood. It was as though a parasite had dug its way into the fiber of his being, into his heart and soul, and slowly began eating away at everything, tearing apart all that made life worth living.

He was going to try to turn her over and press something to her wound when he suddenly heard a hacking noise coming from bellow him. It was as though Lucy had begun to choke, and Edmund could do nothing but watch helplessly as he realized blood was surfacing from the back of her throat. She was going to suffocate from her own blood.

Through sobs, Edmund realized he was panting as he began to speak, "You asked me if I'd marry you," he whispered. "And my answer is yes."

She was gagging, and the red liquid became clearer from her mouth, staining her teeth and dripping down her white cheek, onto the green grass. It was a tiring experience, Edmund could see, and she wanted to sleep. However, Lucy seemed aware, just as he was, that if she went to sleep, she wouldn't be waking up again.

Blood began to pour from every corner of the young princess's mouth, and it was as though her whole life, she had been holding onto a rope, a long, thin, fraying rope, and as though, in that moment she decided to let go of it, and she fell back within herself, letting her own blood strangle her within her throat, and waiting for the invitation of death.

"Edmund," a golden voice boomed from behind the Graceling, and he could not help but turn around to look into the golden eyes of Aslan himself. "Take the vial off of Lucy's belt and feed her a single drop."

Edmund instantly obeyed, something in the Lion's voice made it sound damning not to. He pulled the vial out of Lucy's belt, and let a single drop fall into the pool of blood that was Lucy's mouth.

She had stopped coughing, and was still for but a moment. Edmund felt his innards caving in at the very thought of Lucy's heart stopping.

Suddenly, with a cough, Lucy sprung up off her back, and was leaning on her hands, facing the forest floor. Edmund blinked as he watched her cough out the considerable amount of blood that had gathered in her mouth, and proceeded to vomit several times.

Edmund blinked as though this was a dream. Lucy had just been little more than dead. Obviously not completely dead, for she had still been barely choking on her blood, but she had been so close, and now, she was sitting up, and seemed completely fine. Color was returning to her cheeks and when she smiled at Aslan, her teeth didn't have a bloodstain on them, and because Edmund was sitting so close to Lucy, he was able to tell that her breath didn't reek of vomit.

She blinked, and slowly rose to her feet, wobbling all the way. Her grin was wider than ever before, and her face lit up, "Aslan!" she called out, approaching him and wrapping her arms around his golden mane.

The great Lion smiled as Lucy embraced him, and when she pulled back, he gave her a kiss on the cheek and said, "Dear one, inside the cordial you have been keeping on your belt, was the juice of the Fire-flower, and it has helped, in part, to heal you."

Lucy furrowed her brows. "I'm sorry—I don't entirely understand."

Aslan nodded, understanding, and spoke again, "Tell me what the juice of the Fire-flower does."

"It cures illness and injury." Lucy said, still unsure.

"Your injuries cured," the Great Lion said. "And now, in this very moment, you are free of all illness."

Lucy's eyes widened. "Aslan! Do you mean…I'm not sick anymore? My hemophilia's…gone?"

The Lion smiled once more, and Lucy had to sit down from her shock, smiling all the while, "Oh, thank you!" she said.

Now, the great Lion turned to Edmund, and said, "Come, I shall talk with you alone."

Edmund followed, reluctantly, his green and amber eyes on Aslan's golden ones the entire time, as he walked at the side of the Lion, deeper and deeper into the forest.

Lucy waited for the return of Aslan and Edmund all evening. She dozed off once or twice against the trunk of a tree, and with her time awake, decided that she wanted to climb one of the trees; for now, there were no serious repercussions. Her disease was gone, thanks to Aslan, and she wanted little more in that moment, than to climb up a tree and not stop until she reached the top.

Finding planks and leverage on branches, she kept on going upwards, over rough bark and running into leaves and even risking to skin her hands—for it no longer mattered. She finally reached the canopy, and sat on the branch, and watched the sun go down with new eyes, for it was true that the world was a new place.

XXXXX

It was morning before Edmund returned, alone. He nudged Lucy's shoulder, "Lu," he whispered. "Lu, wake up."

She twitched, sore from sleeping on the cold forest floor, and didn't open her eyes.

Sounding as though he was smiling, Edmund said, "I found the horses on my way back. It'll be another day's ride before we get to Narnia, if we start now, and that's still with crossing the mountains. Come on."

Sleepily, Lucy mumbled, "All right, all right. I'm getting up."

When she opened her eyes, Edmund was fussing with a saddlebag, packing and unpacking certain things that the Monsean soldiers had that they did not need.

Lucy half wanted to ask Edmund what he and Aslan had spoken of all night, and yet, she had a feeling that it wasn't for her to know. It was something to remain between Edmund and Aslan—something she would never know, even though she honestly wanted to. Though, she did have to respect it. "Edmund," she said, "did you mean it?"

"Mean what?" Edmund said, taking some sort of miscellaneous spiked weapon out of the saddlebag in exchange for a blanket.

"When I was…" Lucy paused. "When I was dying, you gave me an answer. Did you mean it?"

"Lu…I have to show you something first." Edmund said, sounding something similar to guilty.

Lucy furrowed her brow as Edmund stood slowly. When he turned around, her eyes widened and she involuntarily stepped backwards at least too feet. She didn't mean to, but the moment she met his eyes, she let out a loud gasp.

"Your…your eyes," she uttered, slowly. Unable to figure it out, and unable to look away.

His eyes, both of them, were brown.

"But…what? What happened?" Lucy asked, still in shock.

Edmund looked to his feet. "I gave it up," he said. "My Grace."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that. Among other things, it's kind of like me starting over. A new person. Ungraced." Edmund could not meet her eyes, with his new, strange matching ones.

Lucy blinked once more. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

Edmund nodded, "Well, now that you know…well, my answer's still yes, but if you don't want to anymore, I understand."

Shaking her head, Lucy walked forward, kissed Edmund more lingeringly than she had ever before, and then said, "Edmund, it was never your Grace that gave you worth—that was always you."

XXXXXXXX

By the time Edmund and Lucy reached Cair Paravel, they were tired, dirty, and almost unrecognizable. However, the moment they appeared in court again, Helena recognized her daughter instantly, and could not stop embracing her. In less than an hour, letters and notices were sent out to all the Narnian armies sent around the continent to search for the princess, and yet another sent to find the Dawn Treader and give Caspian and Tumnus the news.

Life came together once again rather quickly. In Monsea, Ashen became the sole monarch over Monsea, and all the people of the Seven Kingdoms suddenly seemed to clear their minds of fog. People seemed to realize that Leck wasn't quite what he seemed when he was alive, although no one quite knew how exactly the former Monsean king lost his life. Under Ashen's kinder ruling, Monsea came to become the kind and well-off country it was supposed to be. Lucy and Edmund were told all of this through multiple resources—Ashen began to attempt to renew her friendship with Helena, Jill and Eustace became close friends of Narnia, and even Corin came to Edmund, for forgiveness for what he had done in the fog Leck put him in.

Edmund eventually learned how to work with swords again. It took him a while, and he was exceedingly clumsy. It was as if someone had cut of his right hand, and he was forced to learn swordplay with his left. However, he did learn, and after several years, he became as skilled as any of the knights of Narnia—nowhere near as skilled as he had been with his Grace, but, in Narnia, he was far happier—and he finally found his worth, from his own skill.

It only took King Frank and Queen Helena a few months to finally come to terms and accept that Lucy was finally over her disease, nothing short of a miracle by Aslan, and proclaimed a national holiday for this, known as the Festival of Miracles. Lucy did not want an entire holiday proclaimed for her, and so it was arranged that it would not only be a holiday for her, but also for the new friendship between Narnia and their western friends—Lienid and Monsea, and as an anniversary for Princess Lucy and Prince Edmund, the next heirs to Narnia's throne.

**A/N: Holy moocow. I can't believe it's done. Ehmaigash. I mean…seriously! So, anyhow. Please leave a review to tell me what you thought of it! **


	21. Alternate Ending

**A/N: Originally, the last page of the last chapter was going to actually be in the epilogue, and while I was writing, this came out of it; and well, I thought it was adorable, but a little random and not fitting. So, I just decided to randomly put it in as an alternate ending. Enjoy!**

To everyone's shock, although they knew she was no longer ill, Lucy gave birth to a set of fraternal twins—Frank and Susan. When Susan was two and a half, she came down to breakfast, to everyone's surprise, with one blue eye, and then one eye, such a bright pink it was astonishing.

Six years later, the family of four sat around the supper table. Lucy, her belly beginning to become round from a new pregnancy, frowned to her daughter. "What's wrong, Su? Are you getting ill, dear?"

Susan shook her head, moving her golden fork about on her plate. "No, Mum. I feel fine." She said.

"Did you sneak into the kitchen for sweets, then?" Edmund, who had been guilty of doing so several times, asked, amused.

"Not _sweets_, Father," Frank mumbled.

Susan gasped. "Frankie! You promised!" she yelled.

"Promised what?" Lucy and Edmund asked together, exchanging glances.

Frank shot up in his seat, "She eats rocks! We went for a ride this morning, and she just sat down in the quarry and ate rocks!"

"You promised!" Susan pouted.

"Su…" Edmund said to his daughter, "you've found your Grace."

Susan frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Eating rocks," Edmund said. "That's your Grace."

"Well, I feel cheated." Susan stabbed her dinner with her fork.

Lucy put her hand on her daughter's arm, "What's the matter? You've been wondering for years…"

"Well, yes. But, well, Uncle Eustace can understand any language; Aunt Jill can understand animals; Great Aunt Ivi can take care of children; Father used to be able to fight; and Corin still can. And all I can do is eat rocks?" Susan frowned.

Feeling badly for his sister, evidentially, Frank muttered into his lamb, "Well, it's entertaining if nothing else…


End file.
